We're Not Soul Mates (And That's Why I Love You)
by poopoopops
Summary: Quinn and Santana have a complex relationship that only they get. Sometimes they're best friends. Sometimes they pull each other's hair. Sometimes, they even appear to hate each other. But at the end of the day, they'll always have each other's backs. A series of connected one-shots.
1. Tequila and Tantrums

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

* * *

"I can't take this much longer," Kurt whispered from where he was laid out on the couch, hands over his ears, "I want to slit my wrists from listening to all the desperation and hopelessness in this apartment."

Rachel glanced around furtively to ensure they couldn't be heard. When she was certain that their third roommate was too busy wallowing in her curtailed corner of the house, she considered it safe to continue the conversation, "She's playing Kodaline so much that I'm finding it hard to complete my morning vocal scales. All my major scales end up being sung in the minor," she stared down forlornly at the mug of coffee cupped between her cold hands.

New York's winter was especially cold this year and while the heater was turned on, the building's heating system was too run-down to fight the bitter cold.

"You might think you found the one. Until your heart gets ripped and torn," a husky voice bleated weakly from Santana' room in unison with the heartbreaking music blasting from the stereo.

They both looked at each other and groaned.

"Do something! It's been three days!" Kurt hissed, sitting up suddenly, "It's Christmas eve, not Halloween! We should be singing about reindeers and prancing ponies!"

"YOU do something!" Rachel shot back as she cast a frightened look to Santana's room, recalling the one time she had tried to offer her friend comfort only for it to end in near-violence, "I'm not risking my vocal chords to do something Santana is not going to appreciate."

Kurt rolled his eyes then slumped back down onto the couch, "She won't actually rip out your throat. It was just a threat."

Rachel sniffed indignantly, "Well the threat works, okay? Snix is very real and very scary."

Kurt opened his mouth but is interrupted by a tuneful sob.

"The loneliness is 'hic' worst of all. When you've got no one 'hic' else to call. Feeling kind of sad 'hic' when the times are bad, the times are 'hic' getting bad."

"Is she drunk?" Rachel squinted at the clock on the kitchen wall, "At eight in the morning?"

The sudden burst of hysterical laughter confirmed her suspicion.

"What are we even doing up at eight in the morning on Christmas Eve?" Kurt moaned, covering his face with a cushion.

With a mournful face, Rachel turned to face him from where she was seated in the kitchen, "Actually, I don't think I even slept at all with the stereo blasting all through the night. Yesterday was the worst."

She looked over to Santana's room thoughtfully, "Do you think she has actually been drinking all night?"

Kurt snapped his head to look at Rachel in alarm, "Okay that's enough!" he declared, tossing the cushion to the side, "I've had it with Santana wallowing in self-pity. She needs to know that even though Brittany has broken things with her, it's not the end of the world," he moved off the sofa and strode across the living room, ignoring Rachel's wide-eyed pleas and headshakes.

If he had paused a moment to think, he would have remembered that it was precisely because of the supposed end of the world that Santana was in the miserable condition she was in.

Not a minute later, Kurt's high-pitched scream rang out and he scrambled out of Santana's room, his usually impeccable hair mussed up and dragged out on one side.

"AND STAY OUT 'hic' OR I WILL EAT YOUR PORCE-'hic'-LAIN FACE!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" he squealed, patting his hair frantically to check if his crazy roommate had managed to cause permanent damage, "She pulled my hair!" he mouthed to Rachel.

"And could you 'hic' draw the curtains please! " Santana whined before letting out a very audible, very gross burp.

Still traumatized, Kurt did not hesitate to carry out the order. After he had returned the curtains to its drawn position, he walked over to the kitchen table in a daze, where Rachel was trying hard to conceal an all-knowing smirk.

After she had deliberately looked at him and clinked her spoon against the mug for the third time, Kurt finally snapped, "Oh spill it out already!"

"I told you so!" Rachel breathed out happily before draining the rest of her coffee, "Didn't I tell you? Snix is very real and very evil."

"There has to be a way," Kurt buried his hands in his hair. It was already messed up anyway.

In the quiet of the apartment, Steve Garrigan told them how big and bad the world was and Santana sang in agreement. Santa Claus would be horrified.

"I have an idea," Rachel said suddenly after spending five minutes deep in thought.

Kurt perked up immediately at the confidence in her voice, "Hear hear!"

"I think it's time to bring in reinforcements," Rachel smacked her knuckles against her palm for effect. "And I know only one person brave enough to handle Snix. Well, two actually but considering that Brittany is now out of the question, the only person we can enlist is.."

"Just call Quinn already!" Kurt threw up his hands, cutting Rachel off before she could go on and on and on as he knew she was apt to do.

She looked at him affronted but he knew it was only because he had stolen her thunder. Though she gave him the stink eye when he gestured at the phone, she still reached for the device and punched in the numbers that would hopefully bring about their saviour.

"Hello Quinn, we have a crisis."

Quinn agreed to take the next train out from New Haven to New York. Her exams and the after-exam parties were finally over, and she needed an excuse to put off packing anyway. Not to mention, she might or might not have been the cause of Kurt's and Rachel's misery. After all, she had been the one to introduce Kodaline to Santana.

She heard the familiar guitar riffs of "All I Want" three steps before she had reached the door and grimaced. This was going to be harder than she thought. Perhaps packing would have been preferred to this monstrous task she had agreed to undertake.

It took five raps against the door (and some bruised knuckles) and two phone calls to Rachel before the door was finally opened. Apparently, the music had drowned out the sound of her knocking.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed in relief the moment she flung open the door. She threw her petite body against Quinn's and crushed her into an overly enthusiastic hug, "Our hero!"

It was only when Quinn felt the tickle under her nose that she realised Rachel had her earmuffs on. Really fluffy, painfully pink ones. She needn't asked what it was for but it was certainly hideous.

"Quinn," Kurt nodded from behind Rachel, "Still as gorgeous as before. I see New Haven suits you well."

Bodily removing Rachel from the hug, he pulled Quinn into a friendly embrace. They hadn't been close in high school but there was something about distance and surviving in a foreign place that pulled old acquaintances together. As for Rachel, they had kept their high school promise of keeping in touch.

"It's nice to see you too, Kurt," Quinn replied, ever polite to a fault, "She's had the album on loop since last week?" she dropped her overnight bag on the floor and stretched to relieve the kinks in her back. The train ride hadn't been long but ever since her unfortunate accident in junior year, Quinn found that her back stiffened up much too quickly for her liking.

"No, just the sad ones," Kurt wrung his hands, the way he did when he wants to help but didn't know where to start, "She's started drinking like a sailor too."

"And it's only eleven," Quinn commented, looking unimpressed, "Pathetic."

Without another word, she marched over to Santana's room and yanked the curtains to the side. Kurt and Rachel tagged closely behind her like two puppies, eager but still hesitant for fear of bloodshed. Though Quinn and Santana were two parts of the Unholy Trinity and by connection best friends, their history was rocky to say the least. At times, they acted like best buds but other times, they slapped the hell out of each other. It was therefore fair to say that Kurt and Rachel did not know what to expect.

Apart from the empty alcohol bottles on the floor, Santana's room was surprisingly neat. Laid out on her back, she was trying to get the last few drops of tequila out of the bottle by shaking it repeatedly over her opened mouth. Kurt thought it was only a matter of time before she bonked her face with it and gave herself an accidental concussion (and possible facial scar). Both concerned for his well being (he was certain Santana would find a way to place the blame on Rachel and him if she ended up hurting herself) and for Santana's safety, he bravely moved out from behind Quinn with the intention of removing the hazardous object from her hands. But before he could reach the bed, Santana caught him out of the corner of her eyes and sat up on her knees, bottle pointed at Kurt.

"Don't hurt me!" he screamed and jumped back, hoping that the adage 'out of sight, out of mind' was a hundred percent truth.

Santana's body swayed with the effort of staying upright and Quinn was glad the bottle was more or less empty. She did not want to be changing sheets after having travelled for two hours, "I SAID STAY OUT 'hic' oh you've fixed your hair!" she observed correctly through narrowed, unfocused eyes, "I thought I pulled harder."

Obviously disappointed with herself, she flopped back onto her bed and tossed the bottle to the floor. Kurt did not want to know what that statement meant. Nevertheless, his hand reached up to his hair. Just to check. You could never be too sure with Santana.

"I thought I pulled harder," she mumbled to herself again before bursting out into another song, "High hopes, oh, when it all comes to an end. Now the world keeps spinning. Yeah, the world keeps spinning around." she crooned with her eyes closed and that's when Quinn decided she had had it. That song really was her least favourite in the album.

Behind her, Rachel was whispering rapidly into Kurt's ear, "Do you think we should tell Santana her world is spinning because she's drunk? Alcohol interferes with the coordination of motor movement and balance, which explains why.."

"Rachel," Quinn warned, which immediately shut Rachel up. She strode to the stereo in three big steps and turned it off.

"HEY! I WAS SINGING!" Santana straightened up once more. Her head lolled forward and she fell asleep for approximately three seconds. Both Kurt and Rachel surged forward to catch the falling body but Santana woke up in time to regain control of her body, "QUINN! You're here!" She noticed for the first time and a wide smile spread across her flushed face, "You didn't say you were coming. I would have picked you up from the train station," she slurred.

Quinn rolled her eyes but can't help feeling a little flattered that Santana looked so happy to see her. They had had their ups and downs in high school, but Quinn liked to think that they had moved past it. After all, they still kept in touch despite being in different states.

Still, she prepared to say something scathing (because that's just their thing) when her eyes landed on Santana's opened laptop. A Facebook photo of Sam and Brittany looking ostentatiously happy stared right back at her. In the photo, Brittany was kissing Sam's cheek and they were each cuddling a very fat cat. Across the bottom, she could make out some words. "Whaddup homies? Mah nuuuu Mayan star wife 3 3 xoxoxoxoxo"

What even?

She looked to Kurt and Rachel for explanation but when they saw what had piqued her interest, their eyes widened and they shook their heads furiously, fingers on lips.

Okaaaayyy, so that was the trigger and they were not to speak of it in front of Santana, she deduced. Perhaps, it was time to set up a Facebook account for herself. Before she could reach a decision on her next step, Santana chirped happily from the bed, "Drink with me!"

To prove her sincerity, she even went so far as to get off the bed and made a grab for Quinn, swaying precariously on her feet, "Those two are no fun," she pointed at her two roommates and grimaced in disapproval, "Rachel just falls asleep and Kurt just wants to make out with everyone with his toothless gums," she pouted and Quinn really wanted to either give her a pat on the head or a hug.

As annoying and abrasive as Santana could be when she is drunk (even more so than when she was sober), she also had the potential to be really pleasant and adorable after she had gone past the weepy and angry stages, if you knew the right words to say that is.

"Okay," she gripped Santana's arm firmly and guided her to the bed.

"Okay? You can't possibly think…" Kurt squeaked out at the same time Rachel protested, "Quinn! You can't be serious about…"

And those were the wrong words.

"But I want Quinn to drink with me!" Santana cried, looking absolutely heartbroken, "Why are you two being so mean!" the sorrow turned to anger and she pushed Quinn away, "You didn't come to hang out, did you? You just want to come laugh at me and make fun of me and tell me that Brittany chose stupid trouty mouth over me because I'm a Lima loser!"

While Santana ranted on, Quinn made sure to shoot both Kurt and Rachel a withering glare. She had it all under control and the two big mouths… she wanted laser eyes. Yes, laser eyes should do a good job of blasting them both into Kurt and Rachel smithereens. Oh. But would the tiny pieces talk? Because she didn't think she could take a million of little Kurt and Rachel yapping and Santana would kill her if they could talk because she had to live with them and oh right, she had to handle Santana.

"….and you're thinking it's because she isn't blonde," Santana sniffed, angrily wiping snot and tears from her face with the back of her hand, "Maybe I should dye my hair blonde?" she turned to Quinn for advice and Quinn is quick to snap back to attention.

"Yes, I think that's a good id….."

"Stop patronizing me!" Santana bawled, fists clenched over her covers and legs flailing, "You're just saying that to make me happy."

"Sweetie, I'm not!" she glared at Kurt and Rachel to help her and thankfully, they did.

"Yeah, I think we should definitely rule out platinum blonde. Strawberry blonde should probably work though," Kurt stepped forward cautiously, "I think we may need a few coats though since your hair is so dark."

"I think strawberry blonde is good," Rachel added, her eyes darting to Quinn to ensure she was saying the right thing, "The shop down the block is selling it at half price."

Santana pondered for a moment and finally nodded, "Okay."

They all let out quiet sighs of relief.

"Okay, so how about I go buy the tequila and the hair dye, while you wait here in your bed?"

"Okay," Santana said again with a little snuffle and Quinn managed to get her under the covers without any struggle. She made to leave but to her horror and her surprise that she was actually pleasantly surprised, Santana puckered up her lips at the last second, "Kiss," she muttered sleepily.

Quinn stiffened and looked to Kurt and Rachel for help but all they did was wave frenetically, afraid that their roommate would set off again.

Swallowing nervously, Quinn leaned forward to place a chaste peck on her best friend's lips, "Good night," she said but Santana was already half-asleep.

Leaving the room with a blush and a slight smile, she brushed her lips with her fingers. It wasn't pleasant considering the snot and the tears (that was gross), but it wasn't completely unpleasant either. She could even say that maybe, just maybe there was a little tingle. A tiny tingle. And maybe, just maybe despite her exhaustion, she felt a little happy. More than a tiny bit happy.

Speaking of happy, Rachel and Kurt were sure twittering happily behind her.

"Will you guys keep it down?" Quinn chided, plopping down onto the couch, "I know she sleeps like a baby but still…"

Rachel hopped down next to her, hands clapped together in excitement, "Thank you Quinn! Thank you, thank you, thank you! We've not had a moment of peace for days! And may I just say how you two were so cute together when you kissed…"

"You will forget that happened. The both of you," Quinn shifted her pointed finger from Rachel to Kurt.

"But…"

Though Rachel flapped in protest, Kurt showed some sign of intelligence, "What happened?" he cut in smoothly, face smooth and blank, "I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Oh alright!" Rachel grumped out and Quinn smiled in triumph.

As the conversation steered towards a different topic, Quinn lazily took in the loft. She had been there once, to help with Santana's move from Louisiana to New York but there had been a few changes since then. A picture on the wall cuaght her eyes. It was taken during their freshman year, after they had won their first Nationals and right before Quinn was made captain of the Cheerios. Brittany had not been in McKinley then.

The photograph was of just the two of them. Quinn was grinning at the camera with Santana pressed close to her side, equally elated. Smiling at the picture, Quinn can't help but echo Rachel's observation.

* * *

**A/N: Songs that Santana sings, all by Kodaline:**

**1. ****The Answer**

**2. ****Big Bad World**

**3. ****High Hopes**

**I really do love Kodaline! Review and comment please!**


	2. Psyched

**A/N: Wow thank you for the lovely response. I was not expecting it, especially when this is the first time I'm trying my hand at humour and at writing in this style. So thank you very much for the follows, reviews and favourites. I'm still trying to figure out how to reply personally to reviewers. Would someone be so kind to tell me if that's possible?**

**Lastly, just a little warning for a teeny bit of sexual innuendo in this chapter. I hope you enjoy this as much as the last chapter. **

* * *

Quinn fumbled for her phone when it rang. Her eyes darted between the coffee in her right hand and the half-eaten sandwich in her left. Quickly stuffing the sandwich in her mouth, she managed to get her phone out from the back pocket of her jeans without spilling any of her beverage.

"I'm lost," Santana's voice greeted her when she finally put the phone to her ear, "And what took you so fucking long to answer."

She tried to speak but only managed an inaudible gurgle because of the food in her mouth. She chewed rapidly but as always, Santana was impatient, "Hello? Helloooooooo? Was that a fart? Eeeew gross! Did you just butt-dial me? I hate you," was all she said before she ended the call.

Quinn sighed. It probably wouldn't do her any good to tell Santana that _she _was actually the one who had called her and that any insults would have been irrelevant had Quinn really butt-dialed her because well, Santana would have been speaking to her butt.

Five seconds later, her phone rang again and thankfully, she had managed to swallow all of her sandwich, "I'm late for class Santana. If you're lost, Google map is your best friend."

"Whoa! How did you know I called to ask for directions?" Santana sounded impressed and for someone so sly and cunning, Quinn couldn't for the life of her understand how she could be such a birdbrain sometimes. This was the same person who had concocted an ingenious plan to infect her with mono in high school.

"Like I said, late for class. I'm going to hang up now," Quinn checked her watch and sped up to a slight jog.

She had been burning the midnight oil the previous night, catching up on some of her lectures and readings. Because she had switched her major from Drama to Psychology, she had taken up more than the required number of courses to make up for lost time so as to graduate on time.

"No wait! Don't hang up! I'm at Yale and I'm like completely lost. Where the heck is the Psychology school?"

Quinn's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she ground to a halt, "What? What are you doing here?"

She looked at her watch again. It was almost 9.30am, which meant that Santana must have been up at the crack of dawn to be here at this time. Strange. That girl never woke up before noon if she could have her way.

"Well, you said I never visit so, here I am!" Santana declared, sounding absolutely too delighted with herself.

"But it's a weekday! I've classes!" Quinn spluttered, "You should have at least called me first."

"I'm calling now aren't I?"

"You should have called earlier!"

"God, you're so difficult to please." A pause, then, "So are you coming to get me or not?"

* * *

Of course, she backtracked to one of the entrances to meet Santana, even though that would make her fifteen minutes late for class.

When she saw her friend, she was surprised to see that Santana wasn't decked out in one of her ridiculous tight dresses that provided little warmth. When it came to fashion, Santana wasn't exactly known for common sense and Quinn didn't much feel like sharing her jacket today. So, she was happy to see that Santana was for once dressed up for the February frost with a beanie pulled over her hair, a black quilted jacket, black tights and boots. The all-black ensemble would have been rather ho-hum (for Santana that is) if not for the red scarf wound around her neck. And Quinn had to admit her friend looked good, really good, even with the pair of nerdy glasses perched on her nose.

"I'm not skipping class," was the first thing Quinn blurted out when she approached Santana from the back. Knowing her, she would probably try to persuade her to play hooky in favour of getting drunk or something like that.

"Yeah, duh. I know that you're boring. Where's my hello kiss?"

Quinn rolled her eyes but could't help the small smile that tugged the sides of her mouth, "Come on. I'm late for class."

She hooked her arm through Santana's to drag her in tow. Over the years, she had learned that the only way to get Santana to hurry was by physical means, "What's with the glasses?"

Santana's hand reached up to adjust the black frame on her face happily, "I figured it's a Yale thing you know? It helps me to fit in. Makes me look more hippie, don't you think?" Of course Santana would associate glasses with hippies instead of intelligence, "I was aiming for the Hogwarts look. I wanted to go with the green scarf because I'm totally a Slytherin but red is more my colour, not that I can't rock both."

"Why did I even ask?" Quinn shook her head in exasperation as she dragged her friend along.

* * *

**PSYC 160b, The Human Brain**

"God can he get anymore dull?" Santana groaned as the lecturer droned on in a monotonous tone. They had entered the lecture hall not five minutes ago.

Quinn dug an elbow into the Latina's ribs when she started to nod off, "Don't you dare draw attention to yourself," she hissed, "You were the one with the insane idea to come crash my classes."

Santana groaned again and rubbed her face. She yelped when she knocked her own glasses askew, "Heh. I forgot about this," she tapped at the frame before fixing it back in place, "Who needs to know about the brain anatomy anyway? The only anatomy I need to know is what I can see in the mirror," a mischievous grin suddenly flashed on her face, "Well, that and…"

Knowing that the one-sided conversation was about to head down gutter lane, Quinn was glad when Santana got distracted before she could complete the sentence, "What are you looking at ugly?" she snarled when she realised the male student in front of her had turned around to give her a dirty look.

"Do you mind? Some of us here are trying to pay attention."

"Geez, what crawled up your ass and died?" Santana pelted his face with the eraser dust she found on the table and laughed when he spluttered with shock and indignation.

"Santana!" Quinn grabbed Santana's wrist before she could flick another speck of dirt at her classmate and mumbled an apology, "Sorry for that. She gets weird when she has cramps."

"Quinn!" It was Santana's turn to complain as she yanked her arm out of Quinn's tight grasp, "You know our periods don't come till next week!"

"Will you behave?" Quinn scolded, swiping off all the eraser dust from the table so that Santana was left with no ammunition to continue her assault on her poor classmate. But even she had to admit that her classmate's expression had been priceless.

"Now what crawled up _your_ ass and died? Is it contagious or do all you Yalies have a stick up your ass?"

She sulked when Quinn merely glared at her and managed to keep quiet for all of four minutes before her phone buzzed, signaling an incoming message. Bad mood immediately abated, she picked up her phone and laughed softly at what she read, immediately typing out a response amidst more stifled laughter.

After Quinn had tried to ignore Santana's fits of giggles for the fifth time, she finally snapped, "How did you manage to get through your classes in Louisiana?"

"I didn't. That's why I left right?" she intonated as if Quinn is stupid and chuckled again when she looked down at her phone.

Pimple face had angrily gathered his things and moved a few rows back after fit number 3 and if Quinn could have her way, she would have done the same if not for the fact that she knew Santana would simply follow her. Some battles were just not worth fighting and this was one of them. Besides, someone needed to be there to rein Santana in from causing trouble.

When Santana laughed again, Quinn was unable to contain her curiosity any longer and so she leaned over to read the text on the phone.

_I met a girl last nite who charged by the inch. _

_Seriously, who does that?_

_Perfect deal for you then!_

It took a moment for the innuendo to sink in but when it does, Quinn's eyes widened in mortification, "Who are you talking to?"

Santana ignored her when her phone vibrated again. _Screw you Lopez. You took a ride on the Puckasaurus and you know how expensive it'll be. _

She snorted loudly and this time, to Quinn's horror, the lecturer looked over, "Ladies, is there a problem?"

"Sorry professor," Santana raised her hand apologetically, "There was something in my nose. Please carry on. Your class is fascinating."

The lecturer looked at them sternly once more before thankfully returning to his lesson. The moment he looked away, Santana snatched up her phone and began typing again. _You know what you would be able to afford?_

"Are you sexting Puck?"

"Eeeew Quinn. Gross. Let's put it this way. If I'm sexting, you wouldn't have to ask okay?"

A few seconds later, Puck's response flashed on the screen. _What?_

_If she charges by performance._

Against her better judgment, Quinn snickered and Santana looked downright proud of herself.

* * *

**PSYC 126b, Attraction and Relationships**

"Now this is what I'm talking about," Santana crossed her legs and stretched, earning a few appreciative glances from the male students when her blouse rode up to show her toned belly, "This is the kind of class that you should be taking all the time. It's applicable in real life. But I could totally teach this though. I'll even do it for half the cost."

Quinn scoffed in disbelief, "Attraction isn't the same as seduction."

Santana looked pityingly at Quinn for a moment then patted her on the thigh, "There, there. We can't all know everything. At least the professor is hot. Imagine taking a class like this with a fat old fogey. That would be nauseating."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed without thinking, "A lot of the female students voted him for hottest professor of the year."

"A lot of the male students would vote me for hottest professor of the year," Santana added unabashedly.

When Quinn looked at her in disgust, she shrugged, "What? It's true."

She suddenly sat up straight and stared at Quinn, "Oh my gosh, you totally voted for him didn't you? I mean I don't blame you. He looks like a model. In fact, if I didn't like lady parts, I would totally get all up on that."

"Santana! He's a professor!"

Santana looked genuinely confused, "What's your point?"

"It's unprofessional for a teacher to date a student?"

"Sex isn't dating."

"It's illegal!"

"Again, I don't get your point. Besides," Santana's mouth fell open and she slapped Quinn's arm lightly, "Oh my gosh! You're mad because you're totally into him! Okay fine, chill, I won't get all up on that anymore."

A few students around them turned and looked over.

"Shhhh! Will you keep it down," Quinn smacked Santana's stomach with the back of her hand, causing the latter to double over in pain, "And I do _not _have a thing for Fitz."

"Oh my gosh! You're even on first name basis with Professor Fitzgerald. You do totally have a thing for him. You are so filthy. I am so proud of you," Santana teased when saw the red tinting Quinn's cheeks.

"I do not… Santana! Stop it!" Quinn tried to snatch her pen back when Santana started drawing hearts on her textbook, scribbling Q.F. and P.F in her loopy handwriting.

"Look you even share the same second initial."

"You are being ridiculous! I don't have a thing for Professor Fitz," Quinn smacked her a second time, this time over the head, and managed to reclaim her possession, preventing further graffiti.

"There's no need to be shy. He is…. Eeeew Quinn, your professor is married! He has a wedding ring. I am so ashamed of you," Santana threw her a dirty look and turned away from her with crossed arms.

She did not speak to Quinn for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

**PSYC 350a, Autism and Related Disorders**

A soft snore sounded from the left of her and Quinn just wanted to drop her head on the table in embarrassment at the attention it attracted.

"Sorry professor, my friend has narcolepsy."

So much for letting the sleeping dog lie.

* * *

**PSYC 304a, The Mental Lives of Babies and Animals**

"That answer is… actually correct, Miss..?" Professor Hertz blinked, unable to hide his surprise and disappointment that the Latina student had gotten the answer right. She had spent the last hour of his class being nothing but disruptive.

The female student smiled proudly, "Lopez. Santana Lopez"

Hertz scanned through his papers and frowned when he did not find her name, "I don't see your name on the register."

"Oh, that's because I don't actually go to school here. I'm just crashing for the day."

* * *

"Hey Q, wait up!" Santana called out as she struggled to keep up with the intense pace the Yale student had set, "Are we finally done for the day? How many classes do you actually have? I mean…"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Quinn whirled around in anger once they were a safe distance from her school, "You just got us, no, me thrown out of my class! I go to school here okay? I have friends here and my professors recognise me."

Santana frowned, " It's just one class. It's no…"

"I don't care about the numbers! I care about my reputation here as a student and you're embarrassing the hell out of me okay, as you have been for the entire day!" Quinn swiped at her fallen bangs angrily and poked Santana in the chest with her index finger, "I have worked my ass off getting into this school and you're not ruining this for me."

She was glad to see that Santana at least had the decency to look ashamed, "Look I'm sorry okay? You've just been so stressed ever since school started and I just wanted to…." she mumbled apologetically and scuffed at the sparse field with her boot, "I didn't mean to embarrass you okay? I just wanted to give you a good day."

Quinn looked at her incredulously. When she spoke, her voice was laced with sarcasm, "Well you've certainly done a great job."

"I said sorry okay? I didn't mean it," Santana glanced at the ground, hands in her jacket, looking completely vulnerable and uncomfortable, "Brittany called earlier," she blurted out.

Quinn didn't want to, she really didn't want to but with that confession, some of the anger deflated out of her. Santana always could get little crazy when it came to Brittany and Quinn understood crazy. She understood crazy very well. Perfectly in fact.

"And?" she prompted with still a trace of anger, "Are you two getting back together?"

Santana shook her head, looking immensely relieved that Quinn had taken the bait, "No. We talked and figured it would be better if we just remained best friends."

"And you're okay with that?"

She shrugged, 'It'll be hard but yeah, I think I'm okay with that."

Quinn eyed her carefully and when she saw that Santana meant it, she nodded, "Is that why you came over today?"

Santana looked up surprised, "Oh no. Britt called me when I was on the way here actually. I meant what I said earlier. I'm not working at the bar tonight and since you said I never visit, here I am," she repeated her earlier words and smiled tentatively, "So, we okay?"

Despite herself, Quinn felt her chest warm at Santana's words. She had come down all the way to New Haven on a weekday just to spend some time with her. She probably couldn't see the humour now but she was sure that in a few months or so, she would be able to look back on this day fondly. There were some funny moments after all.

"I hate you," Quinn finally conceded, "Don't think I don't know you mentioned Brittany just to soften me up," Santana's guilty look confirmed that hypothesis and Quinn punched her arm once, twice, thrice. It was only when Santana winced that she looped her arm through hers and started walking, "Okay, now we're okay. What do you think of Mexican for dinner?"

* * *

**All the course names and numbers can be found on Yale's website. **


	3. Spiders and Sour Pussies

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I will reply to all of the reviews if I can, even if it's just to personally say a simple thank you. If you've noticed, I've edited all my previous chapters using the past tense and will stick to that for the rest of the story. I think I almost killed myself trying to write in the present tense. Thank you frigidYOLOducks for pointing out my grammar inconsistencies. I do not have anyone checking my work before posting, so all errors are mine.**

**I'm opened to constructive criticism (well I try to be anyway) so please feel free to let me know if you spot any mistakes, and I will try my best to work on them. **

**As for those wondering when the ball will start rolling with regards to their romantic relationship, it has already started rolling, no? XD Heh. I'll get it really spinning by chapter 5, promise. **

* * *

"Hello?" Santana mumbled groggily into her phone. She squinted at the clock by her bedside and groaned when she realised it was just past 7.30am. She had literally just stumbled into bed half an hour ago.

"Santana?" Quinn's breathy voice greeted her, "I know it's early but could you please come over? I can't leave because… Ahhhhhhhh!" she heard a clatter when Quinn's phone dropped and skidded across the ground, then silence.

"Quinn? Hello? Quinn!" Instantly awake, Santana stumbled off her bed and struggled to untangle herself from her blanket, "Quinn! Quinn! I'm coming over now!" she shouted into the phone before hanging up. She would try to reach her again later.

Ever since Quinn's freak accident in junior year, her back was especially sensitive. Was Quinn hurt? Was her spine causing her excruciating pain again? Did she faint? Unpleasant thoughts raced through Santana's mind as she threw on a black jumper and a pair of jeans. Grabbing her glasses from her bedside table, she fumbled them on and bolted out her room, almost crashing headfirst into a sleepy Rachel.

"Hey Santana, what's going on? I heard the racket and I…." Rachel rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep.

"Quinn is in trouble! I'm going over now!" Santana called over her shoulder as she dashed out the main door with her purse and tugged her boots on.

"Wait! I'll come with you!"

"No. There's no time. I'll call you!" is all Santana said before tearing down the stairs three steps at a time to hail for a cab.

When she finally reached Quinn's dorm an hour and a half later, she hit the stairs at a running pace, ignoring the curious looks from students who were leaving for their classes. She stopped briefly on the third level to gain her bearings then set off again in a dead sprint to Quinn's room.

"Quinn!" she shouted as she flung the door open, almost afraid of what she would find inside, "Quinn! Are you all right? Where does it hurt? Are you…oh thank God you're all right!" Santana struggled to catch her breath, completely relieved as she placed her hands on her knees.

She had thought up a million scenarios in her head on the way to Yale, none of them ending well, but this was certainly not one of them. A completely healthy Quinn gave her a distracted wave from where she was perched on a chair, "You have no idea how glad I am to see you Santana! There's a spider in the middle of the room!" she squealed, pointing to an area about thirty centimetres from where Santana was still bent over, trying to recover.

Time sped up again and the world around her returned to focus.

Her eyes tracked down and sure enough, she spotted the little black, harmless creature. Slowly, she straightened up and looked from Quinn to the spider and back to Quinn again, "A spider?" she breathed out, incredulous, certain one of them had lost her mind, and she was pretty damned certain it wasn't her, though that was about to change.

"Yes! It has been there all morning! I can't get to class. I can't go anywhere!" Quinn did a little agitated hop on the chair, her eyes unmoving from the spider so that she wouldn't lose sight of it. The worst was always when those little buggers crawled off to who-knew-where. What was that phrase? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She didn't want the spider jumping out at her when her guard was down.

"Let me get this straight. You called me at 7.30am in the morning for this spider?" Santana enunciated slowly, wanting to be absolutely clear before she shed any blood.

Quinn nodded earnestly, "Yes! I've tried throwing things at it but the little bugger refuses to budge!"

True enough, when Santana took a second look, there were little erasers, balls of paper, tampons and all sorts of random objects strewn around the itsy bitsy spider. The itsy bitsy _dead _spider that currently had all of its eight legs sticking up in the air. A dead spider. A fucking dead spider. That was the reason why she had been awoken at 7.30am, the reason why she had ran all the way to Yale like a mad woman. Because of a fucking dead spider.

She was so angry she was speechless. No, she was furious. She wanted to strangle Quinn to death. Yes, she would strangle Quinn to death. No, she needed to close her eyes and count to ten. One. Two. Three.

"Santana! Why aren't you doing anything! Get it out of my room! Please!" Quinn shrieked when a little breeze blew the poor furry arachnid an inch closer to the chair.

Santana opened one eye then shut it tight again as she took in steady deep breaths. Peace, calm and serenity. That's it. You've got it Santana. Four. Five. Six.

"Santana! Don't just stand there!"

"You have got to be kidding me," she snapped, unable to keep her temper in check any longer, "It's dead! I can't believe you made me come all the way here, from New York to New Haven, at 7.30am for this freaking dead spider!" she shouted, jabbing at the carcass with both her hands.

"Oh," Quinn blinked as she craned her neck to take a good look at the monster, "Is it dead? No wonder it hasn't been moving," she giggled sheepishly as she climbed down from her chair, still on her tiptoes.

"Oh my, it is dead isn't it? Poor creature," she cooed over the spider.

"You know who else is a poor creature?" Santana said dangerously through gritted teeth as she took a menacing step forward, "Me."

For the first time since Santana had arrived, Quinn took a proper look at her and immediately took a double take, "What the hell happened to you?" The usually immaculate Santana had her luscious locks pulled up in a messy bun. Tendrils of black hair were falling down her face. Her glasses were askew and there wasn't a lick of colour on her normally made-up face. Another thing that Quinn found hard to ignore was the fire in her eyes. This was not the usual glower or scowl that Santana had on permanently. This was her real "I'm pissed off as hell" look.

"What the hell happened to me?" Santana laughed humourlessly as she took another step forward, "Let's see. I ended work at 6, got into bed at 7 and was awoken at 7.30 by some idiot calling me for help. I rushed out of the house, fell when I tried to fly down the stairs and spent the whole time on the train worrying myself to death only to find out that there was no fire!" she gestured at Quinn with her arm then jabbed a finger in the direction of the spider, "And that **_this_** was the emergency."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Quinn gasped as she realised how the situation could have been construed, "I would have called to finish explaining but my phone dropped and the spider was…" she flailed helplessly as she stared at her fallen phone next to the spider, "Please don't be mad. I'm so, so sorry!" she wrapped her arms around her friend and kept them there till she felt some of the tension dissolve.

"I'm so mad at you. I'm going to count to ten," Santana tried to resist the hug but found it difficult to do so when all she wanted to do was touch Quinn to ascertain that she was really fine.

"Okay," Quinn giggled as she squeezed, "Do you want me to count with you?"

"No. I hate you. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten," Santana released herself from the hug once she was done counting and glared at her friend, "I'm never answering your call again."

A bubble of laughter gurgled out from Quinn's throat as she thought of how insane Santana must have looked on her way here.

"I mean it. Ever again," Santana muttered, cursing herself as she leaned forward for another quick hug.

She was such a sap.

* * *

"You want me to what?"

"I know you heard me the first time."

"No, no. I have to get this right. You want me to get down on my knees to wipe the floor when there's a perfectly good mop that I can use to get the floor clean?"

"Yep," Quinn confirmed as she got out her cleaning equipment.

"You must be out of your fucking mind if you think I'm actually going to do it," Santana threw the rag back into the pail of soapy water and tossed herself back onto the bed, "Damn it. I should have gotten that on record so everyone will know what a fucking weirdo you are. Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Quinn Fabray, former head cheerleader, popular girl of McKinley High is actually a fucking weirdo," Santana cupped her hands over her mouth and mimed a newsboy shouting down the streets.

"I think we both know who's being the actual weirdo here, Santana," Quinn shook her head fondly as she scrunched up a bunch of newspapers in her hand.

Suddenly inspired, Santana sat up and pulled her phone out from her jeans pocket, "You know what? Let's do that again. Hang on a sec while I get the recorder ready. Okay, I'm ready."

"I'm not doing this with you Santana," Quinn frowned, spraying the bathroom mirror with the cleaner and started rubbing in slow circles.

"You're no fun when you're being a housewife!" Santana complained as she flopped back onto the bed.

"Oh get up already! You've slept for six hours! You've even slept through lunch!" Quinn soaked a handful of newspaper under the tap and flung it at her lazy friend's ass. It landed right on target with a resounding splat.

Too relaxed to retaliate, Santana looked down at the now wet patch on her right butt and grimaced, "Gross Fabray, gross," she held up the soggy ball of newspaper and dropped it onto the floor.

After ensuring that Quinn's attention was on the mirror, she wiped her wet hand on the sheets with a gleeful smile, making sure to cover as much surface area with her hand as possible.

"I can see you from the mirror you bozo," Quinn deadpanned as she continued cleaning in circles, completely unaffected, "The only reason you're still alive is because I'm changing the sheets later."

"Must be my lucky day then," Santana bit back sarcastically then paused with mock deliberation, "Oh wait hang on."

"Oh come on! Are you going to be harping on the spider incident the whole day?" Quinn flushed at the memory of the morning.

"The dead spider incident," Santana corrected and nodded firmly, "And yep," she grinned as she finally rolled up to shimmy out of her wet jeans, "And the next day. And the day after. And the day after the next day. And the.."

"I get your point already," Quinn gritted out as she viciously scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot, "You can be such a sour pussy."

Almost immediately, she regretted her choice of words. Only one person in the world would take that literally.

"I don't have a sour pussy!" Santana cried out indignantly and turned to face her in her undies, "I…"

Oh this was just too good to be true, Quinn cackled wickedly when she saw the multi-coloured worms dotted all over Santana's white boy shorts, "Really?" she tilted her head to stare deliberately at Santana's undies, "Then why are there sour worms on your pussy?"

"Wha..?" Santana snapped her head down and her eyes widened, "Shit!" her hands flew down to cover her underwear but it was already too late, "I didn't have time to change, okay?" red encompassed her face as she fidgeted uncomfortably in embarrassment. This was her cute night time panties that nobody was supposed to see, "Who says they're sour worms? Gummy worms can be sweet too!" she argued feebly, bending over to take a closer look at the cartoons on her underwear. Did they really have the sour dust on them?

The sound of a camera shutter clicking broke her out of her reverie. She whipped her head up to see Quinn grinning wickedly at her, Polaroid camera in one hand and a drying photo in the other. A drying photo of her in her gummy worm panties. A photo that would totally ruin her badass image.

Her mouth dropped open and she scrambled off the bed, scurrying to get to the damning piece of evidence but before she could reach the toilet, Quinn clicked the shutter again, guffawing as she slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it, "Proof! I have proof that you have a sour pussy!" she bellowed from inside the toilet and doubled over in laughter.

"Open the damn door! Open it right now!" Santana hammered hard on the wooden frame, "Quinn! Don't you dare upload that. I will kill you!" she pounded again.

Inside the toilet, Quinn was searching desperately for a place to hide the photos. When she heard the rattle of the knob, a sign that Santana was jimmying the door opened from the outside, she stuffed the photos in her bra frantically and stood her ground.

"Hah! You can't keep me out!" Santana held up a hairpin triumphantly and squinted at her, "Where did you put the photos?"

Quinn waved her empty hands gleefully, "Somewhere you can't find them."

"Hmmm. Really?" Santana took a confident step forward and she swallowed, suddenly nervous. A quick look down at her own shirt gave her away and it only took a split second for Santana to react.

"No, no, no, no! Get away from me!" Quinn backed away quickly but Santana was faster.

"Give it here!" the shorter girl pounced, thrusting her hand down Quinn's shirt to make a grab for the photos.

Quinn squealed, squirming desperately when a full hand groped her left breast. Finding nothing there, Santana slapped her palm over the other breast and grinned wickedly when she found what she was looking for, "Ha! Got it!" she exclaimed victoriously as she yanked the photos out of Quinn's shirt with a flourish.

"Ow!" Quinn rubbed her sore bosom, face red at the intimate contact, "I think you gave me a paper cut, you bitch."

Santana merely laughed raucously as she folded the crumpled photograph and tucked it safely into her own bra, "Payback _is_ a bitch. Need me to check your tits, Fabray?"

"No!" Quinn blurted out, wrapping her arms around her own chest self-consciously, "Keep away from me you pervert."

"That will teach you to mess with The Santana Lopez! I'm a lesbian for heaven's sake. Of the few things that Santana Lopez is afraid of, breasts isn't one of them. That must be the worst hiding place ever. Disappointing Q, disappointing," she shook her head as she exited the bathroom then as an added thought, popped her head back in, "Have you grown a cup size Fabray?"

Her answer was a crumpled, wet ball of newspaper to the face.

* * *

"I've finished mopping the floor Q. What' s next?" Santana grunted out, carrying the pail of dirty water to the side to the room.

"You're done? That was quick! Can you mop it again just to be sure it's clean?"

Santana gaped at her, "Are you mad? Of course it's clean! Do you need me to lick it just to be sure?"

"There's no need for the dramatics," Quinn hummed pleasantly as she wiped a finger across the wood, "Did you wipe every surface five times over?"

"Are you insane? I may have anger issues but I can assure you that's not going to help my problem. In fact, I'm sure having you as a friend exacerbates my problem," she stomped to the bathroom to wash her soapy hands.

"I guess you could help me clean the mirror outside then. Make little circles, twenty times clockwise," Quinn picked up a little basket containing the mirror spray and a few folded sheets of newspaper.

Santana gawked, appalled, "Twenty times? Clockwise? Who are you?"

"Judy Fabray's spawn."

"Point taken," Santana reluctantly accepted the cleaning basket and trudged across the room to the mirror, "Erm Quinn?"

"What?" Quinn poked her head out from the bathroom, goggles pulled over her face and plunger in her gloved hands.

"That's a sexy look," Santana sniggered, her question forgotten.

"I'm cleaning the toilet bowl. What?" she repeated with an annoyed frown.

"Oh right. Which side is clockwise again?"

"Your right!" satisfied that the problem was easily solved, Quinn popped back into the toilet.

"What if I lose count?"

"Then you can start over."

"Then you can start over," Santana imitated the blonde in a whiny voice, "Crazy bitch," she muttered under her breath as she started her dreary task.

"I heard that!"

* * *

Back at the loft that night, Santana swung the door open with a huge yawn and stretched her arms over her head. The day had been a long one and she was desperate to get to bed. Thank goodness she wasn't scheduled for a shift at the bar that night, but she still had to waitress at Spotlight Diner the next morning. Gunther hated tardiness and she hated Gunther so they were even.

"What up losers," she greeted her housemates as she kicked off her boots, leaving them by the door.

"Oh look Rachel!" Kurt looked up from where they were both huddled over his laptop with disturbingly wide grins on their faces, "Sour pussy is back."

They both burst out laughing at the horrified look on Santana's face.

"You may want to check your Facebook, Santana. You already have 42 likes and 13 comments!" Rachel chirped.

"I'M GOING TO KILL QUINN!"

* * *

**Next up: Quinn and Santana's sort of date.**


	4. Never Can Say Goodbye

p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"strongA/N: A big thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed once again. Enjoy the happy in the chapter, while it lasts (cackles)./strong/p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Urgh," Santana groaned over Skype, running her hand through her now thankfully black locks, "Can we please not talk about the time I dyed my hair blonde? You know I don't recall anything from that week."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Luckily we took pictures," Quinn teased as she licked vanilla ice cream off her spoon but like a good friend, she chose not to mention anything about the break-up and the Mayan wedding. Santana and Brittany might be back to being just best friends but when it came to the blonde dancer, Quinn thought it might be safest if she just stayed away from the subject completely./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Would you please stop doing that? It's obscene," Santana complained as she shifted the laptop screen for the umpteenth time, giving Quinn a very good view of her ample cleavage as the camera shifted down for a second before the focus returned to her face. Skyping Santana was always like taking a very bumpy car ride. That girl just couldn't sit still./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Scooping up another generous dollop of ice cream, Quinn chose to ignore that comment, retorting instead with "Would you stop adjusting your screen? It's giving me a headache."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""But I'm trying to get my best angle," Santana squinted at the screen as she fluffed up her hair, "Do you think I need a trim?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Quinn could not help but roll her eyes at her friend's vanity, "It's not as if I've never seen you at your worst, take for example the week you cannot remember," she snickered./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Not talking about it. Besides, It's not about you Quinn," Santana flattened her hair back into place and propped her chin on her palm, "Do you think you're actually the one I look at when we Skype?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Deciding that the argument was a lost cause, Quinn shook her head and dove back into her Häagen-Dazs, "Why are you even dressed so skimpily? It's March! Isn't it like fifty degrees there?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana arched her brows and even through the screen, Quinn felt her derision, "Which explains why you're wearing a onesie? Except for Halloween, there is no excuse to wear a onesie. Not attractive," she frowned in reconsideration, "No scratch that. emEven /emon Halloween, please doem not/em wear a onesie. And what is that even supposed to be? Dumbo?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Quinn looked down at her outfit and blushed, "Yes smartass, it's an elephant and it's cute okay? It keeps me warm. Stop judging!" she squirmed in her seat when the sniggers continued, "I don't say you look like a hooker even if you sometimes dress like one."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""That's because I look smoking hot," Santana shrugged, completely unaffected./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Whatever," she really should stop picking up on Santana's vocabulary if she wanted to make the honour roll again, "And speaking of hot, you have not answered my question. Isn't it like fifty degrees there?" she repeated in the same intonation, pretending that the conversation in between never happened./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana rolled her eyes, "Ever since they fixed the heating system, the two idiots have had the heater turned up to like a hundred degrees. I'm dying over here."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""And you aren't changing the temperature because?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Because if not, they're never going to shut up about it. Okay fine!" Santana huffed when Quinn raised her brows disbelievingly, "That and the midget has been preparing for some vocal thing she has in NYADA. Says it's important. Whatever, I just don't want to hear them yapping about it all day," she tried to brush it off nonchalantly but Quinn saw right through her./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Awwwww Satan has grown a heart…"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Shut up. It's whatever okay, it's no big deal," Santana fidgeted uncomfortably and Quinn swore she's blushing, even if it's a little, "Anyway, I have to go. Have to get ready for work."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana started to close her laptop but opened it again, "And Q, cut down on the ice cream please? Or I'll have to start calling you Tubbers again," she smirked then logged out before Quinn could get a word in./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Rude bitch did not say bye again," Quinn shook her head in exasperation, albeit fondly. Santana never said goodbye, no matter how many times Quinn had tried to teach her proper phone etiquette./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"A few seconds later, the green phone icon on Skype flashed on her screen and she clicked on it, surprised, "Finally learned some manners?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana looked confused for a moment but then shrugged it off, the way she always did when she couldn't immediately grasp something, "Huh? What? No, I almost forgot…"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""… to say goodbye?" Quinn cut in before her friend could continue./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""What?" Realisation seeped in a moment later and Santana laughed, "Not in your life time bitch. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Kurt is having some charity event shit this Saturday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come. Isabelle wanted to thank us for that awesome performance we did at a last gala so she invited us to this one. I'll be working on Friday night but I can still get you from the station on Saturday, as long as you don't take the 8am train like the crazy bitch you are. And we can hang out or something. I mean the last time was fun," Santana explained, referring to two weeks ago, when Quinn had stayed at the loft for a week during her spring break./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Quinn paused to quickly run through her schedule in her head. Classes at Yale had just resumed on Monday so there shouldn't be any upcoming projects that she would have to rush out over the weekend./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Yeah," she took her bottom lip in between her teeth and nibbled as she thought, "Should be fine. I'll be at the station around noon?" she finally nodded and Santana shot her a winning smile./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Awesome! No onesies allowed!" she wagged her finger before signing out abruptly without a goodbye./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Damn it! Not again!"/p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Why am I always the one coming over to New York?" Quinn whined as she struggled to carry her suitcase up the flight of stairs. The elevator to the loft was spoiled and her friends lived on the fifth floor./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Because it didn't go too well the last time I was in New Haven?" Santana looked over her shoulder to check on Quinn's progress and was appalled to see her still on the third step./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Oh give it here," she descended a few steps and snatched the bag out of Quinn's hands with her left, "What the hell did you put in there? You're only going to be here for a night!" In spite of her complaints, Quinn thought Santana was managing the weight just fine and so decided to leave the heavy lifting solely to her. She deserved the rest anyway./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Will you stop being such a grump," Quinn skipped along happily, glad to be rid of her burden./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Give me a break will you? I was bartending till four and only got in at six. And now, I have to haul your heavy ass suitcase for you with just five hours of sleep."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""But I sleep five hours every day."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""That's because you're a fucking weirdo," Santana snapped, breathing a little heavily due to the effort./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Well, I didn't ask you to come get me from the station. And you're the one who offered to take my bag," Quinn reasoned as she easily climbed the last flight of stairs./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I hate it when you're so fucking logical. Can't you be like a normal human being for once?" Santana all but shoved the door open to the loft and manhandled her bag through the doorway, "Kurt is already at the hotel. He's helping Isabelle out with the decorations for tonight's gala. Rachel has agreed to babysit you while I snooze for another hour."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""What? No…." Quinn protested, slightly frazzled at that piece of information but Santana had already hollered a very loud "RACHEL! QUINN IS HERE!" before disappearing into her room./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Rachel bounced out (yes that was indeed the right verb to use) of her room in a whirl of energy and tackled Quinn into a hug, "Hello Quinn! It's wonderful to see you again. I certainly was not expecting to see you that soon, but when Santana asked if she could bring you to the gala as her…."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""WOULD YOU SHUT IT HOBBIT? I'M TRYING TO SLEEP! GET QUINN SOMETHING NICE TO EAT, WON'T YOU? SOMEWHERE I CAN'T HEAR YOU! " Santana shouted from her room and Rachel frowned in disapproval./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I've been trying to teach Santana some basic courtesy over the past few months but she has proven to be exceptionally stubborn," Rachel grumbled as she waved Quinn out of the apartment, "For instance, I think it is polite to use the name that one's parents have given him or her. I have relayed that to Santana but she remains set in her childish name-calling and insults, which I find…."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Quinn heaved a sigh as she followed Rachel out for lunch. This was going to be one long hour./p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Why was this a good idea again? Quinn thought to herself from her squashed position against the wall. Next to her and completely in her personal space was Santana expertly applying her makeup. Behind them, poor Rachel was on her toes trying to catch her reflection in the mirror just long enough so that she could put on her fake eyelashes./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Excuse me, do you mind?" Quinn snapped as she jabbed Santana with her elbow to try to access more room, "How do you expect me to use my straightener if I don't even have the space to lift my arms."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""And how is that my problem? It's survival of the fittest here and guess who's the fittest?" Santana replied, unconcerned as she continued applying her mascara./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Miffed at her apathy and the very fact that Santana's right armpit was directly in front of her face, she tickled the crevice without mercy./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You crazy bitch!" Santana yelped when she poked her eye with her mascara wand. In retaliation, she smeared the black ink across Quinn's cheek then had the audacity to laugh in her face./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You did not just do that."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"One look at Quinn's face had Rachel backing out of the cramped toilet, "Erm girls, please don't. We have to leave in half an hour."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Quinn," Santana warned and took a step back when the blonde picked up her blusher and hairspray, brandishing one in each hand. That step took her right up against the wall, "Rachel is right. We have to leave soon and if we both have to start from scratch, we're going to be late."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Who says we both have to start from scratch," Quinn closed up the distance between them with a menacing step forward and smashed the blusher, container and all into Santana's face. Her other hand pressed down onto the nozzle of the spray can, dousing one side of Santana's face and half her head with the product, "Now who's the fittest?" she smirked but the cocky expression faded when Santana finally stopped screaming and dropped her hands to glare at her red-eyed, like her eyes were literally red. Guess some of the chemicals must have gotten in, Quinn felt a little bad but that regretful thought too ebbed into the distance when Santana approached her with a growl./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""No Santana. I'm already in my dress," she lifted up the can of hairspray again in an effort to deter the other girl's attack but Santana simply lunged forward with a fierce battle cry./p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Kurt is calling again!" Rachel screeched when her phone rang for the fifth time./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Just pick up the phone and tell him we'll be there in five minutes," Quinn waved off her friend's panic as she checked her reflection using her compact mirror./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"As of now, they were about half an hour late and still on the taxi en route to the hotel. Thankfully, Rachel had managed to haul Santana off before she could do any real damage. Rachel might be small but she was also freakishly strong for her size. That and she had lived with Santana for the past six months, meaning that she had learned through experience to fend off similar attacks. Even then, they had had to wait for Santana while she showered again. They figured for her, "starting from scratch" was a lot easier than trying to salvage the damage Quinn had wrought./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I think you scratched me above the eyebrow. Look," Quinn turned her cheek so that Santana could check for the aforementioned wound./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Please bitch, my eye is still smarting from that spray. I can feel my eyelid twitch every ten seconds," Santana retorted with crossed arms, resolutely refusing to look in Quinn's direction./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Humph," Quinn huffed childishly and turned to the mirror again, "You totally asked for it. I had to change my dress!"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You emshould/em have changed to the blue dress in the first place. I was doing you a favour," Santana snapped, eyes darting to the supposed scratch spot, "There's nothing there you big baby."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Satisfied, Quinn snapped her compact shut and slid it into her blue clutch bag./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I'm so glad I do not live with you two," Rachel commented from the front, "One of you is enough thank you very much."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Don't push it you little shit. I haven't gotten back at you yet for holding me off this monster," Rachel visibly cowered at the threat but the glint in Santana's eye was all Quinn needed to know that the threat was an empty one, "Oh look we're here and there's our chaperone," Santana gestured for them to get out first while she paid their driver./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""What took you guys so long?" was the first thing Kurt said after he had opened the door for Rachel and pulled her out. He looked dapper in his slim black suit but Quinn thought it was a pity that his frantic demeanor gave him a constipated look, "Why are you three so late! They've already started serving dinner and you're missed the canapés and the truffle soup, which were to die for by the way."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Don't look at me. It's their fault," Rachel pointed at her two companions, who were just getting out of the cab./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""How about we stop pushing the blame when it's obviously Quinn's fault and just head in there so we aren't any later. I'm hungry as fuck," Santana swept past Kurt and Rachel, her stunning red gown a contrast to her scowling face./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"She was almost at the door when she suddenly spun around as if she had forgotten something. In a fluid motion, she strode back towards them, past her housemates and grabbed a surprised Quinn by the hand, "I almost forgot to tell you. You're my date for the night," she grinned and held up their intertwined hands, "Come on love," she happily tugged her "date" along, ignoring her splutters of protest./p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You're such a boring date. You obviously won't put out at the end of the night and now you won't even dance with me," Santana pouted, staring longingly at the dance floor, wine in hand./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""That's because I'm not your date," Quinn stated for what she thought must be the thousandth time. This was getting a little tedious. Sometimes, she forgot how pig-headed Santana could be./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You mean you'll actually put out on your first date?" And of course Santana would zoom in on that. "And sure you are. We came together, I paid for your cab, I held your hand when we walked in and I even pulled out your chair for you before you sat down. That makes you my date."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Quinn stuck out her chin in defiance and crossed her arms, "You also ruined one of my dresses and gave me a cut above the eyebrow. Besides, I always get flowers on my date and you haven't given me any,"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""God you're such a prude," Santana reached for the vase in the center of the table and picked up the single stem of rose inside, "The "cut" above your eyebrow is a new freckle genius and you should thank me for that dress! I totally improved its design."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You tore off one sleeve!"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You've nothing in your cupboard for Rock and Roll anyway," she shook off the water droplets from the stem, cleaned it on the tablecloth and stuck the rose under Quinn's nose, "There you go your flower, so now you're my date. Are you going to dance with me now? There's no need to resist this piece of hotness," she gestured to her body without shame and with the plunging neckline, Quinn found it hard to disagree./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Still, Quinn saw no need to inflate Santana's ego by validating that statement, not when it was already as big as her head. So she chose instead to turn away from her stubborn friend and sniffed at her flower in appreciation. She always did have a soft spot for flowers, "I'll pass."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Fine. Be that way. Be a spoilsport," Santana threw up her hands in defeat and slumped down in her seat./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Stop being a child and go dance with somebody else."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""But I want to dance with my date," Santana whined and Quinn could not help but feel a little flattered. She didn't know what Santana was playing at but she had to admit it was a little endearing./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You're not going to quit on this "date" thing are you?" she held up her index and middle fingers and flexed them twice to signal quotation marks./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You emare /emmy date! I invited you here and I've given you a flower. I don't know why you're being so difficult today," Santana frowned, a little perturbed by the rejection./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You didn't ask me here as your date. You just asked if I wanted to hang out. And you plucked the flower right off the table."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana blew out a raspberry in a glittery display of grace and elegance, "What's the difference? They all led to the same result right? You're here with a pretty red rose and an even prettier sidepiece – me," she gestured to herself for good measure, "So do you want to dance or not, or do I have to sit here and be boring with you?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""You don't have to sit here," Quinn rolled her eyes though she could not help the curve that tugged at her lips. She was starting to enjoy this meaningless banter simply because it was obviously winding Santana up./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Yes I do because my mama taught me that it's rude to leave my date at the table."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Well my mum taught me that it's rude to hang up on someone without saying goodbye," Quinn shot back equally quick./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana snorted, "Seriously? You're still on that?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Yes I am! Why don't you ever say goodbye?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Because it irritates the hell out of you," Santana chortled, "So, dance?"/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Alright, alright," Quinn finally conceded, holding up her hand so that Santana could pull her up, "But only one, just to shut you up."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"The smile that Santana flashed her was blinding and she found herself dragged to the middle of the dance floor in less than half a minute, "Now we'll show these suckers the right way to move their bodies," she whooped as she moved to the beat of the music./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"While Santana wasn't as good a technical dancer as Brittany or even Quinn was, she was faultless when it came to rhythm and enthusiasm and that made her a fun partner to dance with. So before Quinn knew it, one dance became two and two became five until the music slowed and the people around them coupled up to sway together in time with the last song for the night./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""Guess you wouldn't want to do this song?" Santana pulled back, eyebrows arched in question. She had already taken a step back to their table but Quinn gripped her wrist before she could take another, and settled her arms around a tanned neck./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I like this song. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go, Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go," she sang softly against Santana's neck and breathed in the sweet fragrance of her perfume./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Perhaps it was the red wine, perhaps it was the sumptuous dinner or the thought that this would be her last real weekend before the term got crazy, or perhaps it was a combination of everything but Quinn felt entirely relaxed in Santana's arms as they swayed from side to side./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""I've never slow-danced with a girl before," Quinn mused as she pulled back a little so she could look into Santana's eyes, "I like it. Thanks for asking me out tonight."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"Santana merely smiled as they continued dancing./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"em"/ememI hate to leave you, but I really must say, Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight."/em/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"A full minute passed before Santana spoke up, her breath blowing warm wisps of air against Quinn's ear, "February 9."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""What?" Quinn drew back to look at Santana, brow furrowed in confusion./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;""February 9," she repeated, "The last time I said goodbye to anyone important. I don't like farewells Fabray."/p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"There was a little ache in Quinn's chest and a phantom twinge in her spine at Santana's words. February 9 was the day of her freak accident, the day she had almost lost her life. But that was the past. And today was the present. What was important was that she was here now, safe with the people she loved. She looked around the floor to see Rachel and Kurt dancing and laughing together. Then, she looked down to see Santana's arms wrapped securely around her waist and her heart swelled with the realisation that she had never been happier./p  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"emGoodnight, sweetheart, goodnight./em/p  
hr style="margin: 5px 0px; border: 0px; color: #000000; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px; background: -webkit-gradient(linear, 0% 100%, 100% 100%, from(#ffffff), color-stop(0.1, #cbcbcb), color-stop(0.9, #cbcbcb), to(#ffffff)) #cbcbcb;" noshade="noshade" size="1" /  
p style="max-height: 999999px; font-family: Verdana, Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"strongThe song used in this chapter is Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight by the The Spaniels. And with that, I bid everyone a goodnight./strong/p 


	5. I Need A Date (No, You Don't) Part I

**A/N: Hello readers! Thanks for the reviews and the follows! We'll be cutting down the humour for a bit, maybe the next 2-3 chapters, including this one. **

**I had so much trouble with this chapter and was stuck on it for more than two weeks****. I'm not pleased with it but considering that I've revised it more than ten times, I really am rather sick of rereading it over and over again. **

**To all the Justin Bieber fans reading this, I'll like to offer a little apology! (I do not hate the dude.)**

**Hope this doesn't disappoint too much. Let the angst begin. **

* * *

"I need your help. I need a date for my sorority dinner and dance next Friday," Quinn announced during one of their daily Skype sessions.

"Okay," Santana answered easily, "I'm working next Friday but I can get someone to cover my shift."

"Who's asking you Lopez?" Quinn laughed but stopped when she saw Santana glowering at her through the screen, obviously offended, "What? You can't possibly think I would ask you to my D and D right?"

Santana looked affronted, "Why not? Everyone wants a piece of me."

"I guess you could put it that way," Quinn decided it was easier to just go along with Santana's ego if she wanted to get to the next part of the program, "But I'm sure that piece of you would be bored to death if I brought her along. Making small talk over Yeats and Ted Hughes isn't really your thing, is it?"

"True that," satisfied with the answer, Santana relaxed in her chair and started inspecting her nails, nail file at the ready, "So, what do you need Fabray?"

Quinn happily sent a link over, along with her user ID and password, "I need your help in finding someone to bring. I've just sent you a dating site for Yalies. Figured I could use this opportunity to re-enter the dating scene, you know?"

"Wait, what? Why?" Santana immediately looked up from her nails, seemingly concerned.

"What do you mean why?" Quinn frowned.

"Why would you want to re-enter the dating scene, doofus?" she clarified, very much bothered by the piece of information, "What's wrong with you now?"

Quinn would have laughed if not for the fact that Santana looked genuinely distressed, "Nothing is wrong with me."

"Then why would you want to date?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I want to date?" Quinn corrected and started to number off reasons using her fingers, "I'm in college. I'm in my prime. I have people around me with bright futures. We share the same interests. It's fun. Everyone wants a piece of me. Besides, since when did one need a reason to date?"

"But… but," Santana stammered, "I'm fun too."

This time, Quinn really did laugh. Never would she have thought she would be the one to have to assure Santana of their friendship, "Sure you are. And we have plenty of fun together whenever we hang out. But when you get a girlfriend in New York, trust me, you're not going to want me around that much."

She was surprised at how bitter she sounded, and apparently, so did Santana.

"That's not true," she objected almost shyly, "I'll always want you around. Rachel and Kurt would also want you around. Besides," she sniggered as she started clicking through the website, "Are you sure you want to date these people? I mean look at them. It's no wonder why some of them are still single," she stopped at page 101 and scrunched up her face in disgust, "Like this chick. She totally looks like she needs a bar of soap and a bottle of peroxide and eew, is that lice on her hair?" she grimaced, horrified.

Quinn frowned as she clicked through the profiles, trying to search for the girl Santana was talking about. Why did that phrase sound familiar?

"Q!"

She jumped, slightly startled, "What?"

"Is that lice on her hair?" Santana demanded.

She relaxed, relieved that there was nothing to worry about, "Wait! I'm still looking for the page!"

"And this guy!" Santana pointed at her screen again and guffawed, all matters of lice forgotten, "Q, you have got to see this! Page 545! Who picked out this guy's clothes? A blind man? Flowers with spots? Seriously. Kurt would have an aneurysm," she cringed at the hideosity, "I really don't think you're going to have much luck here. It looks like a page for touch-me-nots. Are you still seeing pink and yellow spots? Because I am," she moaned as if in pain and for good measure, rubbed vigorously at her eyes.

"They can't be all bad," Quinn protested as she scanned through the profiles, "I'll have you know that this website is supposed to be a collection of Yale's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes."

"There you have it. Supposed," Santana smirked, "Look, if you really want to do this, we can. I'll fulfil my daily quota of insults and prove to you that they're all just a bunch of jokers. That's killing two birds in one stone, right? Perfect!"

"Fine!" Quinn agreed instantly, propelled both by a need to defend Yale's name and by her competitive streak to prove Santana wrong.

Not half a minute had passed when she threw out the name of her first candidate, "Richard on page 12 erm.. seems rather handsome," she tilted her head and squinted in an effort to discern him from the dark background.

Santana quirked a sceptical brow as she made a big show of turning up the brightness on her screen, "Yeah, there's that possibility. Or maybe it's because he's completely one with the shadows," she bites out sarcastically, "At least make an effort Quinn. He's practically the Bogeyman! There's blind date and then, there's blind date."

"You didn't actually differentiate the two," Quinn pointed out after a slight deliberation.

"Yes, that's because they're one and the same," Santana waved her hand carelessly, either unaware or unconcerned that she was making little sense, "The point is that only people who are fucking ugly would use a picture of themselves in the dark. So this guy must be fucking ugly and we are not interested. Comprehende? Great! Next!"

'Erm okay," Quinn agreed with some hesitation, wondering if she should also point out that there was no 'we'. It was just going to be her and her date, assuming that she found one. From what she had gleaned so far, she was starting to regret agreeing to this challenge. She wasn't very much fond of losing, "How about William?"

"He's balding."

"Andrew?"

"Teeth's jacked up."

"Brandon?"

"Had a nose job."

Quinn touched her nose tenderly, suddenly feeling self-conscious, "I've had a nose job too."

"And it looks wonderful on you," Santana added without missing a beat, "Next."

"Why thank you," Quinn beamed as she clicked to page 30, "Alfred?"

"Do you really want to be dating Batman's butler?" Santana asked in all seriousness.

It took Quinn a few seconds to respond to that, "He doesn't exist."

"Who?"

"Batman."

Santana frowned at her, "Stay focused, Quinn. We're talking about Alfred here."

"Yeah and he doesn't exist!"

"Sure he does," Santana argued, "I'm looking right at him. There, on my screen," she took a screenshot and sent it over.

"You know what? Never mind," Quinn deemed it a lost cause and wisely chose to move on without even bothering to accept the picture. Sometimes, you just could not apply logic to Lopez, "How about George?"

"Seriously Quinn, do you have a fetish for old names? One look at him and I know your sex life is going to be boring as fuck."

"Santana! That's irrelevant," Quinn glared at the camera, even as she moved on, already knowing George was going to be a no go.

"Of course it is relevant! Do you know how many couples get divorced because of an unhealthy sex life? Are we done yet? At this rate we're going, we're going to take hours!" Santana huffed as she scowled at Quinn.

"You're the one who has been vetoing everyone I've pick!"

"Then pick someone I can't veto!"

"I'm trying to!" Quinn shouted back as she rubbed at her temples.

A few seconds later, Santana started sniggering, "Hey! You can send people DMs here right?"

"No Santana! Don't you dare send anyone anything using my account!" Quinn warned, hitting herself mentally for giving Santana access to the exclusive site. She was going to have to remember to change her password after the session.

"But I want to ask Grant how many lies his mother had to hear before she believed he wasn't actually a gremlin."

"No Santana," Quinn chided, even as she started laughing, "Stop being such a superficial bitch. Looks aren't everything."

"Really?" Santana challenged with a smirk, "So you're telling me you'll go out with flower poop guy on page 545? The way he is dressed in his flower poop shirt?"

When Quinn grimaced, Santana smiled smugly, "Huh, thought not."

"I said looks aren't everything. That doesn't mean I want to wake up to someone who would give me a fright or…" she stopped when she realised Santana was not listening and had started humming to 'Wrecking Ball', "Okay, you know what? You think you know better. Why don't you choose someone for me," she snapped, frustrated at how they seemed to be getting nowhere.

"Nice try, Fabray," Santana smiled smugly as she began rocking back and forth on her chair, "I'm not losing this one."

"Wait," Quinn looped back to the beginning of the conversation, "Page 545? Why are you even on the last page?"

Santana shrugged and let out a big, fake yawn, "I thought if I skipped all the way to the back, we could end this ridiculous session. Quinn, you don't need a date for this thing. Was it even stated in the invitation that you needed a date?"

"No," Quinn scratched her nape absently, "But I want one."

"Then take me. Problem solved and we can call it a day. I'll even be generous enough to call this a draw."

Quinn scoffed, "I can't take you!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to spend the whole night insulting everyone you meet."

Santana nodded proudly, "See, I'll keep you entertained all night."

"We obviously have very different definitions of the word," Quinn snorted as she went back to the profiles, "Jasper on page 33?"

Santana let out a long-suffering sigh and hunched down in her chair, cupping her chin with her hands, "He's going to die early, and his eyebrows are totally crooked," she droned in a bored voice.

"Casper, Santana," Quinn closed her eyes in exasperation. Why did she think roping Santana in to help was a good idea again? "Casper is the friendly ghost who died early. Jasper is actually an immortal vampire. God, you're not even trying anymore."

"That's because I've already fulfilled my daily quota of insults," Santana whined as she prodded something on her table.

"Erm how about this guy, he's kinda cute."

"Sam? Gross. Reminds me of Trouty Mouth. I want to punch him in the face. They even share the same name. Next, next, next," Santana snapped her fingers impatiently with each word.

"True, I won't be able to look at him without thinking of all those horrible impressions Sam used to do," Quinn giggled as she clicked to the next page, "Oooh, jackpot. I bet even you wouldn't be able to say anything about this one. Biff McInTosh. Page 45."

Santana snorted, "Does his name count because a hundred and one jokes just popped up in my head. But let's see. Hmmmmm," her eyes narrowed in speculation as she scrutinised her competitor's photo and profile.

"He's cute right?" Quinn gushed as she stared dreamily at his handsome mug, "Boyish but definitely has the ability to do scruffy if the occasion calls for it."

Santana remained unimpressed, "Also definitely, definitely douchey. Everything about him screams douche bag, moron, self-important jerk. Next."

Quinn groaned and shook her head, "So far, you've insulted every one of my choices. I don't care. I like Biff. I'm saving him. You lose," she hovered her mouse over the 'save' button with a triumphant grin.

"I'm serious Quinn. Don't go out with him. My psychic Mexican third eye is zinging like crazy."

"You don't have a Mexican third eye Santana," Quinn rolled her eyes at her friend's dramatics, "You just don't want to lose. Besides, you can't know Biff McInTosh is a douchebag just by looking at his face. You don't even know him!"

"Oh trust me, I can. I mean look at you. Everyone thought you were an angel when they first met you but me? I knew instantly you were a bitch," Quinn blinked, uncertain if she should take the comment as a compliment or an insult, "Besides, he's doing that sideways peace sign in his photo. You know who else does that? Justin Bieber!" she heaved and her famous bosom inflated with conviction

"So not only is Biff McInTosh a douchebag, he's also a fan of Justin Bieber, who everyone knows is a douche, and that's disgusting. Trust me Quinn. I know a jerk when I see one. You're practically going to be dating your father, just a younger, more attractive version of him and that's just gross and unacceptable. Completely unacceptable! No me gusta!" she ended her monologue by slamming a palm down on the table, knocking over a tin of pencils in the process.

When Quinn still looked unconvinced, she took another deep breath and carried on, "Even flower poop guy would be a better option. You know what? I'm just going to save flower poop guy in your folder and he can be the guy you go out with. Okay? Great, we're done. You win."

"Eeew no, Santana. If you're so against Biff McInTosh, then fine. I won't go out with him, all right? There's no need to date undesirables," Knowing there was nothing she could say to convince Santana otherwise and wanting to avoid an endless ramble, Quinn verbally yielded but clicked save on her computer. She would be sure to send Biff a DM after hanging up.

"Seriously Q?" Santana deadpanned.

"What?"

"Am I stupid?"

"What!" she repeated with some agitation.

"I'm using your account. I just saw you save Biff McInTosh's profile in your folder."

"No I did not!" Quinn quickly denied with a hint of panic, and fumbled for the link that would take her to her saved folder.

"Yes you did. You saved it and a banner just popped up here thanking me for saving Biff McInTosh's profile, which I clear as hell did not do," Santana jabbed furiously at her screen, where Quinn supposed the pop-up was.

"No I didn't!" she shook her head again, trying not to show her relief at locating the correct saved folder. Hurriedly, she dragged Biff's profile into the trashcan, "I've just checked it and it isn't here," she smiled sweetly and batted her lashes in all innocence, "It must have been a virus on your side."

"Right, and I'm Beyonce," Santana rolled her eyes at the flimsy excuse, "You have to learn to trust my judgement. Take it from someone who sticks her nose in everybody's business and is a judgemental bitch. Even Rachel and Kurt have learned that when it comes to people, I'm never wrong. Case in point: Donkey Face."

"Okay, okay, I get your point. I've already deleted Biff okay? Satisfied?" Quinn finally conceded, grumbling under her breath. Talk about stubborn.

It took a few minutes before Quinn came across another contender, "How about this one? Alex? Page 63."

A slight pause, "That's a chick, Q."

"So?"

Santana frowned, certain Quinn had not gotten her the first time around, "She's a girl."

"I know what a chick means, Santana."

Another pause, "You're dating girls now?"

"Yeah, you already know that," Quinn replied distractedly without looking up from the description she was reading.

"Er no. I only know you occasionally experiment with your college schoolmates," Santana clarified, stopping her rocking motion by bringing her chair down to its four legs with a clatter, "But now you're telling me you've started dating girls?"

When Quinn nodded, Santana pouted, "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were best friends."

"We _are_ best friends," Quinn placated when she realised Santana seemed genuinely upset, "And I'm telling you now, aren't I? Besides, what's the difference?"

"Sex isn't dating Quinn."

"That we can agree to disagree on."

"Fine but back to the point. Why didn't you tell me you're gay?"

Quinn sighed in exasperation and ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted to pull her hair out. This whole website dating thing seemed to be bringing her nothing but grief, "Because you would have jumped to the same conclusion as you are now and I wanted to avoid that, okay? Just because I'm dating girls doesn't make me gay. Can we stop talking about this? What do you think of Alex?" she made a last-ditch attempt to change the subject but she should have known she had already hit a roadblock. Santana was as stubborn as they came. When she set her mind on something, it could be like talking to a mule.

"It's not about whether you're gay or not," Santana argued, equally frustrated, "I don't need you to come out to me, Quinn. That shit doesn't matter. But we've been talking practically every day and I don't understand why you would keep something like this from me. In fact, if you're dating girls, I don't understand why you would refuse to bring me to your dinner next Friday," her eyes darted to Alex's picture, "I mean I'm totally hotter than this chick."

So this was about Santana's ego, Quinn thought in relief. That could be easily fixed.

"You're hotter yeah," Quinn agreed with a shrug, "But Alex isn't likely to embarrass me in front of my friends."

"What if I promise to keep my mouth shut for the night?"

"Still no. Drop it Santana."

"Why not?"

Quinn huffed in irritation. She was getting tired of this game, "Because I'm not looking for someone to have a fling with! We've already established that we have different definitions of what constitutes a date. If ever I'm down for a one night stand, I'll call you."

It was supposed to be a joke but judging from the way Santana had flinched as if she had been slapped, her joke had fallen flat, "Wow Quinn wow."

The look that Santana shot her filled her with a sense of dread and guilt. No, her joke hadn't just fallen flat; it had fallen and swan-dived straight into the depths of Earth's abyss.

"No, no, I didn't mean it in that way", Quinn sought to make amends, "It just came out wrong."

"Fine," Santana nodded brusquely but while her words were agreeable, the cold blank mask of her face told a different story, "I'll just brush aside the fact that you've just called me a slut."

"No Santana…"

"You know what? I don't think I'll be much help in your quest, Quinn. I hope you'll have a good time with Alex next Friday. Or maybe Biff. Or maybe you could take a leaf out of my book and date them both together," she smiled bitterly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh hang on, wait. I don't date. I just fuck people."

Quinn cringed at the intentional crudeness, "Santana, you know I didn't mean it that way. I wasn't thinking…"

"Clearly, neither was I since the start of this conversation," Santana interrupted, "Goodnight Quinn."

"What? No, wait!"

But it was too late. Santana had already hung up. Completely miserable and at a loss, Quinn buried her head in her hands. How did they get from making jokes about guys in flower poop shirts to this?

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	6. I Need A Date (No, You Don't) Part II

**A/N: Hello all! Thanks for the support! I thought I wouldn't get this up by Saturday but I managed to churn it all out in time so yay. I don't think I've ever written such a long chapter in my life so I shall take this as an accomplishment. ****I don't think I've ever written such a long chapter in my life so I shall take this as an accomplishment, though there definitely is much room for improvement in terms of quality****. **

**reliposh xoxo: I hope the length of this chapter is satisfactory for you XD**

**Presenting to you: Chapter Anomaly (Since it differs so much in terms of style)**

* * *

Santana woke up with a pounding headache and what felt like the Sahara desert in her mouth. She moaned, rolled over and promptly collided with something in her bed. Groaning again, she squinted against the light flooding in through the window.

Wait a minute. Window? She didn't have no window in her room. With difficulty, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and congratulated herself on successfully managing not to hurl. When she felt like the world had stopped revolving enough for her to open her eyes, she did exactly that and was met with a naked woman sprawled out next to her on the bed. Naturally, she glanced down and was horrified to see that she was undressed.

"Oh fuck," she squeezed her eyes shut again and scrambled back to the edge of the mattress, a move she immediately regretted when the room around her started it's cruel spin once more, "Oh fuck fuck fuck," she dry heaved.

What had she done? She had only planned to drink herself to oblivion, not bring home a complete stranger. She dragged her hands through her hair and tugged at the ends as she scanned her surroundings. Well, technically it wasn't bringing someone home since she was in a hotel room but still, a one-night stand had not been part of the plan.

"Fuck," she cursed again. It seemed to be the only word she was currently capable of.

Even to her ears, her voice sounded scratchy and abused, and her throat felt worse than it sounded. How much alcohol did she actually consume last night, she wondered, scrunching up her face at the incessant ringing in her head. The last thing she recalled was downing her 10th shot (she really didn't keep count) with a "Fuck yes!" even though what she really wanted to say was "Fuck you, Quinn Fabray!". But Quinn was in New Haven and she was in New York and she really didn't want to take a one and a half hour train ride just to bite her best friend's head off. Everything after that was a whirl of vague faces and demented laughing, then nothing.

Perhaps, joining her bar colleagues for a night out had not been a good idea. She was practically getting drunk all over again from the vodka vapours seeping from her every pore.

As much as she hated to admit it, Quinn had hurt her on so many levels last night. One was that she really wanted to date Quinn but it was obvious the sentiment was not shared. Two was that Quinn didn't think her important enough to reveal her secrets to her. That, or she didn't trust that Santana would be able to keep her mouth shut. Either way, it hurt. Three was that of all people, Quinn should be the one to know that she, Santana Lopez, had enough self-respect to keep it in her pants. Sure, she hadn't shown that particular trait in high school when she was sleeping with boys left and right, but that was before she had come out of the closet. She had been the school tramp before Brittany, but hell if she would let that term stick after graduation.

Don't get her wrong, she enjoyed sex. Very much so. She even prided herself on being a siren, a master of seduction. But what she valued above sex was love. Scissoring had nothing on her if she didn't feel anything for her partner. How could Quinn not see that?

She was broken out of her reverie when she felt the bed shift beneath her. Mystery woman was waking up. She panicked and grabbed at the sheets in an effort to cover herself up. Unfortunately, in her haste and her hung-over state, she lost her balance and teetered off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thump.

"Fuck," she whimpered pathetically, curling up on the floor in pain, her hip throbbing and her migraine back in full force.

"What's going on down there?" mystery woman asked blearily, with a hint of a Southern twang. Before Santana could react, her companion's head had already popped over the mattress, "What are you doing down there chickadee?"

"Eating carpet," Santana mumbled sarcastically without looking at her new friend, contented with leaving her face facing down on the floor, "If I haven't already done that," she added inaudibly when her companion chuckled in amusement.

"Do you need help getting up?"

Santana shook her head, and groaned when the hammering in her head increased a hundred fold, "I think I'll just lie down here if you don't mind. I'm just waiting for a hole to open up and swallow me whole."

The girl laughed again and Santana couldn't help but seethe. How was it that she felt like she was in Dante's fourth circle of hell while this girl was as chipper as a bird?

"Glad to know the funny bone exists when you're sober too. Nice ass by the way," she commented good-naturedly.

"I've been told but thanks," Santana grunted as she continued to rub at her sore hip, completely unbothered by her nudity in her haze of pain.

When she heard the sound of sheets rustling above her, she tilted her head to the side and looked up. Her new friend was stretching with her arms over her head and damn. She had one fine body. Slightly more awake now, Santana's eyes tracked up naked lady's body in appreciation, from her legs to her face and, "Holy shit," her mouth promptly fell open.

Her companion frowned down at her in concern, "Please don't tell me you've hurt yourself and that I have to haul you to the hospital?"

Santana ignored her as she continued staring at the girl's face. This had got to be the cruellest joke ever.

"Holy shit," she repeated. Quinn was going to kill her, "You're Alex."

* * *

Quinn glanced at her phone for the fifth time in three minutes but the screen remained dark and unresponsive. Disappointed, she placed it back on the lecture table and dropped her chin on her arms. Given that Santana had rejected and ignored all her texts and calls so far, she wasn't even sure why she still felt the need to check. Clearly, the girl didn't want to talk and knowing just how stubborn Santana could be, it would make more sense for Quinn to wait out her anger and have Santana reach out to her instead. But she just couldn't help herself.

She did not like how their conversation had ended last night and knowing their stubborn prides, if she did not fix it soon, they would eventually ice each other out, something she definitely not want, not when she had grown so accustomed to their daily banter. She would even dare say that it had become something she looked forward to.

Don't get her wrong. She loved Yale and she loved the friends she had made at Yale, but she had always felt that something was absent despite all she had and enjoyed. However, whenever she was with or talked to Santana, that missing piece went away. She guessed there was just something about old friends that new friends couldn't replace. Santana had grown to understand her in a way that nobody else could and this was not surprising considering how much time they had spent together in high school, what with Cheerios, Glee and shared classes. What was surprising was that despite her initial conviction to detach herself completely from her troubled past, Santana was one association to Lima that she could not and did not want to give up.

So with that in mind, she picked up her phone and tried again.

_Come on Santana. Pick up your phone. Are you seriously intending to shut me out? I've already apologised. I wasn't thinking when I said…._

Her fingers paused. Just the thought of what she had said that night filled her with guilt. Santana had always been sensitive to that particular insult because of the complications it had created early on in her relationship with Brittany. As caustic and unfeeling as Santana liked to present herself to be, Quinn knew that deep down, the girl was capable of deep emotion, as she had shown on many occasions. And however caustic and unfeeling Santana appeared to be, Quinn knew how she prided herself on her loyalty to the people she loved and how hurt she could be when said loyalty was questioned. The fact that she knew that yet had still commented so carelessly made her words even more unforgivable.

No point being so specific, she thought as she deleted part of her message and retyped.

_Come on Santana. Pick up your phone already. Are you seriously intending to shut me out? I've already apologised. You don't have to worry about me calling you up for a one-night stand because that's never going to happen. _

She scowled at that. Delete, delete, delete. That message would definitely not fly by Santana. Now it just sounded as if she thought Santana was undesirable and that was certainly untrue. I mean she would never think of her friend in that way… well there may have had been times when her eyes had lingered a little too long on Santana's cleavage and her legs and her bare stomach and her ass. And maybe, she had given thought to what it would feel like to kiss Santana Lopez. Not just a friendly peck or brush of the lips, but a real kiss, with tongue and some passion and what? She just wanted to know if Santana was really as good a kisser as the horny high school boys made her out to be. It was not a crime for a girl to be curious, was it? And maybe, she had once had a slightly steamy dream about the both of them but it was just that one time, when she had been feeling horny and lonely and repressed, so it totally did not count. But could anyone blame her? Sometimes, it was like that girl had an allergy to clothes. Plus, it was difficult not to leer at a really, really good body. All girls compared anyway. Her behaviour was completely normal, she reasoned, a merely reflexive and innate interest of an attractive form, and she had always been partial to beauty. She tugged at the collar of her shirt as she returned to the message. For some reason, the room had suddenly gotten a lot hotter.

_I didn't mean what I said about calling you if I ever wanted a one-night stand. It was just a joke, one you obviously didn't get, which is why you're giving me the cold shoulder. _

Whoa, way to go Quinn, she thought sarcastically as she deleted the message. Way to sound resentful and angry.

_I didn't mean what I said about calling you if I ever wanted a one-night stand. I'll prove it to you if you would just call me?_

She scoffed at that text. Now it sounded like _she_ wanted a booty call. Damn, apologising was hard. She should definitely get more practice. She drummed her fingers against her chin as she thought. Maybe she just needed to tweak that last message a little.

_I didn't mean what I said about calling you if I ever wanted a one-night stand. What I meant was that you are too important to be just a booty call. Please call me back so we can talk?_

Yeah that sounded much better, she nodded, scrutinising the message again to be sure there was no possible way Santana could derive anything negative from the text. She was just about to click send when her phone vibrated.

Her heart leapt to her throat but when she saw that it was just a Facebook notification, she slumped back onto the table in disappointment. Just one of her classmates inviting her to play Mousehunt with her. Like what even? She rejected the invite and proceeded to scroll through her news feed. It wasn't as if she had been paying attention in class anyway.

Food porn. Food porn. A video of a cute puppy. Heh that little thing really was adorable. Rachel getting ready for school. Food porn. Again? Why the heck did Angie Bennett keep posting pictures of what she was eating. Delete friend. It wasn't as if she knew her well anyway.

She continued perusing her news feed. Puck partying in the University of Lima. Typical of him to crash a college party. Top ten movies of all time. Like. 50 Cities You Should See In Your Lifetime. Europe was so gorgeous, she mused as she scrolled through the photos. Perhaps she could head there for her graduation trip. Like and share. Mousehunt. Puck and alcohol. Santana snogging someone. Kurt's new shirt - Wait, what?

She blinked and scrolled up. Her eyes had not been playing tricks on her; there it was on her wall – "Santana Lopez was tagged in 3 photos in Jacky Johnson's album. _Someone's getting lucky tonight!_"

She felt a twinge in her gut and a flare of temper rose up within her. The bright flash of jealousy both stunned and shamed her.

She had no reason to be surprised or upset, she reasoned with herself. Considering that Santana actually worked in a bar, the Facebook photos that Santana was tagged in or that she uploaded herself often featured her partying or drinking with her bar mates and friends. She knew the girl got asked out a lot. She knew plenty of girls (and guys) hit on Santana when she was working. She even knew Santana did on occasion enjoy doing a little more than harmless flirting but she had never had it actually shoved in her face like that, not since Brittany, and it brought up a sour taste in her mouth.

But it was none of her business who Santana kissed and Santana could certainly kiss whoever she wanted to, Quinn thought defiantly. They were not girlfriends. They were not together, and who was Quinn to stop Santana from doing what she wanted. She was a big girl.

With a shuddering sigh, she turned reluctant eyes to the lucky clubber who had her lips mashed up against her girl's. She was pretty hot (as if Santana would accept anything less), and looked oddly familiar.

It took her more than a few seconds to remember; the neon streaks in the blonde hair was what helped Quinn place her and when she did, the temper that she had been trying so hard to bank in flooded out like a torrent. Her fingers clenched around the phone like a vice. That sly, cunning bitch. The nerve of her, Quinn fumed as she swiped open her messages.

To think that she had been trying so hard to mend bridges when Santana had obviously been keener on burning them. She thought that they had both left the malicious, conniving bitches behind in Lima but apparently not. Not when Santana was so obviously trying to one-up her by sleeping with one of her potential dates.

With a menacing growl, she deleted the apology text she had so painstakingly prepared just minutes ago and replaced it with a simple but effective, "Go fuck yourself. We're done."

* * *

"You're Alex."

"Yeah, we met at the bar last night," Alex replied dryly as she cracked her neck, stretching the kinks out of her back, "I'm surprised you remember my name considering how smashed you were."

Santana merely nodded. She didn't see a point in elaborating.

Curiously, she looked Alex up and down. The Yale undergraduate looked like a pixie and had the voice of a siren. Though her hair was boyishly short, there was no mistaking her for a boy. While Santana typically found multi-coloured hair to be a drab look, the bold neon streaks in Alex's blonde hair actually worked in her favour, giving her extra charm and appeal. She was like a skinnier, edgier version of Quinn in her skank days. In fact, if it were not for Quinn, Santana figured she would be a lot more interested in getting to know this chick.

"You've really good bone structure," she observed as she continued peering at the older girl hovering above her, always one to be distracted by beauty and never one to be subtle when admiring.

"Thanks, I've been told," the Yale student grinned, playfully throwing Santana's earlier words back at her. If she was bothered by Santana's close scrutinisation, she did not let it show, "Do you need painkillers? Your head must be killing you. You really drank a shitload."

"I wouldn't be opposed to having some," Santana groaned as she dropped her head back to the floor, "How smashed was I?"

"Let's just say you were too uncoordinated to be of any fun. That and you kept crying about not being a slut while trying to shove your tongue down my throat," Alex clucked over her with two pills and a glass of water, "I only brought you back here out of pity. Your friends were smashed themselves."

Santana pinked in embarrassment, "Ah shit."

"No harm done, chickadee. We've all had that moment and you were a barrel of laughs," she winked as she tossed her clothes over her shoulder.

"So, we didn't do anything?" Santana asked uncertainly as she looked down at her own naked body.

"I'm afraid not. It was pouring last night. By the time we both got in, we were drenched to the bone. Figured it would be easier to just go au naturel," she answered in anticipation of Santana's question.

"Thank god," Santana muttered to herself in relief.

"Now, if you don't mind. I'm going to take a shower before I head back to New Haven. I'm just here for a friend's birthday," she disappeared into the bathroom but popped her head out after a mere second, "I'll check your phone if I were you. It kept buzzing yesterday so I turned it off," she tilted her head to where the device lay by the television.

Santana waited till she heard the water running in the shower before she very slowly and painfully got to her feet. She was never partying again, she solemnly swore when she stumbled and almost crashed headfirst into the table.

She picked up her phone and switched it on, very gingerly setting herself on the bed as she waited for her mobile to turn on.

When her phone started vibrating and continued to do so for the next ten seconds, she lifted an impressed brow. Alex wasn't kidding when she said her phone had buzzed non-stop.

She sprawled out on the bed and started scrolling through her notifications. Wow, Quinn had called her no less than seven times, no doubt to apologise. She found herself pleased by the thought and chuckled to herself. She would let the girl squirm for a bit more before returning her calls.

Moving on to her messages, she rolled her eyes when she saw a text from Rachel, demanding her whereabouts and asking if she was coming home for the night. Then rolled her eyes again when she actually felt compelled to reply to the text. God, she had gone soft.

The next message was from Lady Hummel, whose message was similar to Rachel's. She copied and pasted a reply over before sending it with a shake of her head. Her housemates frustrated the hell out of her but she couldn't deny that she had gotten fond of them.

She frowned when she saw Quinn's messages. The first two were apologies but the third baffled her.

"Go fuck yourself. We're done?" she read, flicking her eyes up to the name of the sender. It was Quinn all right. One schizophrenic Quinn Fabray. Whatever. She swore that girl had the mood swings of a pregnant lady, probably leftover hormones from when she was carrying Beth. She would just call Quinn later.

She proceeded to her Facebook notifications and everything became clear to her in an instant.

There, blown up on her screen was a picture of her kissing a very recognisable Alex.

Oh shit. Oh shit. What would Quinn think if she saw it?

Right, she already had that answer. Quinn would tell her to go fuck herself. Oh shit. She had to fix this.

Springing up to her feet, Santana barged into the bathroom without knocking, much to Alex's indignance.

"Hey!" she scowled and yanked the shower curtains close.

"I'm really sorry!" Santana snatched up one of the boxed toothbrushes and squeezed out a generous amount of toothpaste, "It's an emergency! I'm coming with you to New Haven!"

* * *

Quinn was in a foul mood when she clomped out of the lecture hall and back to her dorm. Apparently, it was written all over her face because her college schoolmates took one look at her and steered out of her way. It reminded her of high school and just the thought that she could still intimidate people with a mere look brought a little smirk to her face.

She was just about to take the stairs up to her room when a familiar laugh stopped her in her tracks. She turned, just in time to see Santana planting a chaste kiss on Alex's cheek before sending her off with a flirtatious wave. Her spine stiffened and her eyes narrowed.

The nerve of her! Coming all the way to New Haven to boast about the new girl dangling on her arm. A prickly ball bounced around in her gut and she felt a stone lodge itself in her throat. She stood there for a moment, torn between the want to march up to Santana and throttle her, and the sudden need to throw herself on the bed and indulge herself in a good cry.

She decided that the latter was a safer, more mature decision and so started toward the stairs. But her initial moment of hesitance had cost her. Santana turned, locked eyes with Quinn, and jolted from the unexpected meeting, "Quinn," she whispered.

The blonde snarled, striding up the stairs and heading for her room. She didn't want anything to do with Santana. She refused to remain friends with someone who would backstab her so easily. But though she was supposed to be angry because of the betrayal, she found herself fuming more so over the images of Santana kissing a stranger. Fuck, was this jealousy because if it was, there was no reason to be feeling it.

She skidded to a stop when she reached her room and threw the door open, preparing to lock herself inside for eternity but Santana had caught up with her in the time she took to unlock her room. She slapped a hand against the door before Quinn could slam it completely shut, "No, listen. I know why you're mad. It's not what it looks like."

"Go fuck yourself," Quinn spat as she shoved and pushed, throwing her weight against the door to get Santana to leave off.

When she finally managed to get the door shut, she slid the bolt into place with fumbling hands.

"Quinn! It's not what you think!" Santana shouted as she pounded on the door, "Let me in and I'll explain!"

But Quinn was not in an understanding mood and all she wanted was to be left alone. Unfortunately for her, Santana was nothing if not persistent.

"Quinn! Open the damn door! I came all the way to New Haven. I'm not going back without an explanation!"

"Go fuck yourself," Quinn repeated from where she had thrown herself onto her bed, her vision blurry with angry, unshed tears.

There was a slight pause and for an instant, Quinn thought Santana had finally given up. She bit her lip, relieved that she had finally been left to her own devices, upset that Santana had surrendered so quickly. But then the banging started anew.

"Quinn, if you don't open the door, I'm going to fuck myself right outside your room."

At that, Quinn eyed the door suspiciously. She wouldn't, would she? Santana was bold but certainly, she wouldn't be that shameless. There were students walking along the corridors all the time.

"I mean it, Quinn. I'll do it right outside here. I don't care who sees. I'm warning you. I can be very loud."

As if Santana needed to state the obvious. Back in high school, Quinn had unfortunately been subjected to several of Brittany and Santana's midnight couplings during cheer camp and their sleepovers.

When the first moan rang out, the colour drained from her face, and her eyes went wide with shock and mortification. She would not!

She jumped up from her bed, unlocked the door and flung it open. Santana looked at her smugly with her arms crossed over her chest, no doubt knowing she would be let in. Infuriated by the cocky smirk, Quinn threw out one arm to drag Santana in roughly by the wrist, "Are you crazy?"

"Hey, you forced me to. I asked nicely," the brunette scowled, rubbing her bruised joint as Quinn slammed the door shut for privacy.

"And I've made it clear I don't want to talk to you," she turned around and walked the other way.

"Well, I want you to listen anyway."

"Get out. I've nothing to say to you."

"No way. I'm not leaving until I say what I've come to say."

"I said we're done."

"Well, I'm not. Shut up and listen."

"If you're not leaving, then I will," she stalked to the door but Santana fell into step beside her and reached the door one pace ahead of her. She jerked on the handle but Santana slapped a hand on the door and held it close.

"Just shut up for a moment and listen."

She whirled around, eyes blazing and fists clenched, "You tell me to shut up one more time, and I'll –"

She shut her up. One hard, exasperated kiss that stunned Quinn into silence, "Shut up," she hissed, backing Quinn up against the door, her palms on the door on either side of her, "I didn't sleep with Alex."

Quinn's heart did a lovely bounding leap but she stilled it. Her lips were still tingling, her heart racing, but she was angry and it was not her business who Santana slept with, "I don't give a damn who you sleep with."

A pained look flickered across Santana's face but it was gone in a second, replaced by a steely determination, "I know. But you need to listen because you're getting the wrong idea."

Enraged by the lie, Quinn slapped her palms against Santana's shoulders and shoved hard. She wanted Santana angry, needed Santana to be angry so they could fight properly. It wasn't fair that she was the only one mad, "Why does everything with you have to be a competition! I trusted you! I told you I wanted to date Alex and you went behind my back to sleep with her, you conniving bitch!" She shoved again.

"I didn't sleep with her!" Santana took a step forward but stopped when Quinn bunched up her fists and brought it up chest level. For the first time that afternoon, she hesitated, "Are you going to hit me?"

"Give me a reason not to," Quinn gritted out.

"I was drunk okay? I woke up this morning with a helluva hangover and I was lying next to her. I didn't realised it was Alex until this morning, all right?"

Quinn scoffed, "Right. You want me to believe that of the millions of people in New York City, you picked the one girl I said I wanted to date?"

Giving into frustration, Santana dragged a hand through her hair, "I swear I didn't sleep with Alex. The only reason why I even made out with her in the first place was because I was drunk, I wasn't thinking and I'm sorry for that. I know we've had our issues in the past but I would never do that to you."

"Says the one doing the walk of shame," Quinn shot back, deliberately eyeballing the crumpled skin-tight dress Santana was sporting.

Santana tugged at her hair in agitation, "Think for a minute, would you? Alex lives in New Haven. I met her in New York. It was pure coincidence! If I really wanted to go behind your back, I would have come to find her here, in New Haven, in Yale."

Quinn snorted in derision, "How about you give me an actual reason to believe you?"

With one violent move and an actual growl, Santana fisted her hand in Quinn's hair and dragged her mouth to hers, pouring everything she had into that fierce and hot mating of lips. When she pulled back shortly, Quinn could literally feel her eyes opened wide in shock.

"Do you get it now? You thick-headed, thick skull idiot?" Santana's voice wavered, thick with emotion. Her lips were slightly parted, her face flushed. With anger or arousal or embarrassment, Quinn did not know. "Is this a good enough reason for you?"

Stunned and mind blown by the kiss, Quinn could only gape unattractively as she stared. The pieces were all falling in place now. Santana's insistence at the gala, her suggestion to be Quinn's date, her waking up early to pick Quinn at the station whenever she visited, and a million other little things that she had noticed but waved off. It was suddenly all too much to take.

10 seconds. 20 seconds. 30 seconds. And still, her vocal cords refused to work. She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind but Santana clearly took it as a rejection.

She laughed bitterly and scraped up what was left of her dignity, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

When she turned to go, Quinn was surprised to see the watery sheen in her eyes and cursed herself for being the one to cause it. Her hand shot out, grabbed Santana's wrist and her words came back, "Wait. Don't go."

Her heart ached when Santana sniffled, swiped her eyes with the back of hands. Tears sparkled on her lashes but still she was beautiful. She was blind then but she wasn't blind now.

Reaching out, Quinn cupped Santana's face with her hands and brushed away the tears with her thumbs.

"If you're feeling sorry for me, don't," Santana warned but Quinn shushed her with the brush of her lips.

"Shut up," she pecked her again, soft and tender.

"I don't need your pity," Santana argued feebly, wriggling a little in Quinn's hold.

"You're too prickly for me to ever pity you. And believe me, I've tried," Quinn scoffed, arching her brow in challenge, "So are you going to continue whining or kiss me back?"

Santana's eyes narrowed in defence and she pushed forward, backing Quinn toward the door, "I wasn't whining."

And of course Santana would completely miss the point and pick up on that. Sometimes, a girl just had to do everything by herself. With a roll of her eyes, Quinn grabbed a fistful of Santana's dress and yanked her forward to join their lips together.

She was keen on finding out exactly how loud Santana could be.

* * *

**Phew. Hope that wasn't too dull. For some reason, I feel a need to explain why the conflict was settled so quickly (and perhaps even unrealistically, some may purport)? **

**Quinn has always had a soft spot for Santana; she has harboured romantic feelings for Santana prior to this but was blinded by it because of her close friendship with the latter. Added to that, the push and pull relationship that the two of them have made it even more difficult for her to sort out her emotions. ****I tried to draw attention to that through Quinn's thoughts, especially the part where she was attempting to form an apology. **

**As for Santana, I think many of you got her attraction to Quinn so that requires no explanation. **

**Lastly, I never intended to draw out their spat since this is supposed to be a series of one-shots. I shall leave character growth and (more) realistic resolutions to a full fic (if ever I write one).**

**Now that's done with, perhaps our new couple should channel their energy into thinking of pet names for each other instead of squabbling, yeah?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Pet Names (Babe, anyone?)

**A/N: Just a short one!**

* * *

"Hey San, why don't we have any pet names for each other?" Quinn looked up from where she was at the bottom of the bed, folding the last of her clothes.

It was laundry day and Santana had offered to come up to New Haven over the weekend to help her with her household chores. So much for that, Quinn thought sourly as she eyed the girl currently lounging lazily on her bed.

"You just called me San," her girlfriend pointed out without looking up from her tabloid, "Hey look, what did I tell you? Justin Bieber arrested for DUI," she flipped the magazine around and leaned forward to shove the page in Quinn's face, "See, was I right or was I right? Is he a douche or is he a douche?"

Quinn swatted at Santana's arm playfully and rose to put aside her folded laundry in the cupboard. After she had stacked them up nicely, she moved to join her girlfriend at the head of the bed. God she loved that word, "Could you stop reading that trash for a little bit and listen? This is important!"

"Pet names for each other is important?" Santana asked skeptically, shifting a bit so Quinn could settle in comfortably next to her.

"Yes."

"Why do I get the feeling that you aren't going to let it go until we come up with pet names for each other?"

"Because that's about right," Quinn tucked her tongue in her cheek, trying to hide her smile at how well her girlfriend understood her.

Santana sighed and put her magazine aside. Some battles were just not worth fighting, especially not when Quinn was in one of her romantic, princessy moods. It was better to participate so they could get it done and over with, "How about Quinine?" she suggested.

Quinn frowned and poked her under the rib, "You know I hate that name. And my mum is already using it."

"What do you mean your mum is already using it? You mean we can't use names that have already been taken up by others?" Santana wriggled out of Quinn's hold to stare at her, appalled.

"Of course not! If we use what others are already calling us, then it wouldn't be special anymore, would it?"

"But.. but," Santana stammered, flabbergasted. This was going to be harder than she had thought, "But having so many names would just confuse the shit out of me. Then you would get angry at me and then we would break up."

Quinn blinked, struggling to follow Santana's flow of logic, "Wait, what? How would it lead to us breaking up?"

"Because you would call me something disgusting like honeypoo and I would forget to respond because I would forget that's my name. Then, you would get mad and ignore me and I would ignore you because you're ignoring me. And then before you know it, we would think our relationship isn't working out and then we would break up. I don't want to break up over something stupid like that," Santana explained, scrunching up her nose adorably.

And people wondered why Santana and Brittany were such good friends.

"If you can remember Sue's cheer routines, you sure as hell would be able to remember the name I give you," Quinn placated, "And I promise I won't get mad at you if you forget your name, at least for the first week."

Santana seemed to consider the offer for a moment before curling up against Quinn's side, "Deal."

"So, honeypoo for you?" she teased, tapping a finger to Santana's nose, "I kind of like it. It's cute."

"Honeypoo? Cute?" Santana looked at Quinn in utter disgust, "Shit is shit, no matter how much you sugarcoat it."

"Honeybear?"

"Gross. Do I look fat and lumpy to you?" Santana complained, taking Quinn's hand in hers and guiding it over her abs, "Feel it. Feel it," she demanded, "Honeybear my ass."

Quinn ran her hand over the defined contours and hummed in appreciation, "Hmmm that's true. How about honeybunch?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"There's no need to start insulting people," Quinn admonished as she drummed a finger against Santana's toned stomach, "Okay, fine. So, maybe honey isn't for you."

"No shit, Q," Santana agreed with a mix of agitation and relief, "Honey is sickening and sweet. And while I may taste sweet, I'm not sweet," she lifted her head to smirk smugly at Quinn, eyes glinting with mischief.

And of course, Santana had to make everything about sex.

"So, no honey it is," Quinn nodded. After a moment, she bolted upright, "How about caramel?"

"Quinn! That's racist!" Santana whined, kicking out her feet in protest.

"How is it racist?"

"Just because I'm brown. Why can't I have a badass name like hot ass, hot thing, shake that thang or like sexy shit?"

"You want to be called sexy shit?" Quinn asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah," Santana bopped her head enthusiastically, "How about it?"

"Aren't you the one who just said that shit is shit, no matter how much you sugarcoat it?"

"I'm a woman, Q. I change my mind ever five seconds," Santana rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's ignorance and waved her hand in dismissal, "So, what do you think?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?" Santana asked, scandalized that Quinn did not like her idea.

"Because you would sound like a porn star!" Quinn protested, smacking the tummy under her hand, "That's a terrible idea! Besides, I doubt you'll still be sexy shit when you're forty," she chuckled at her own joke but stopped when she realised Santana did not seem to share her amusement. In fact, she was looking extremely put out, "Excuse me, of course I'm still going to be smoking hot at forty."

Quinn giggled as she traced Santana's abdomen over her tank top. She made it so easy sometimes, "You better, or I may have to find a more attractive sidepiece."

"Pffft," Santana scoffed, "Good luck in finding someone hotter than me. I'm the bomb."

"Is that a challenge Lopez?" Quinn smiled at the thought that Santana would want to be with her for that long. The cocky smile the latter shot her sent a jolt of arousal down her gut.

"Damn right it is."

"How about you show me just how hot you say you are?" Quinn shifted, her voice suddenly a low, sexy husk. She moved to straddle her girlfriend, planting herself between her legs.

"I thought we were supposed to be thinking of pet names?" Santana teased, her smile turned devilish, but her hands were already sliding up Quinn's legs to her hips.

"That can wait," Quinn bent down and took her mouth, drawing her into a searing kiss. Her impatient hands were already tugging at the bottom of Santana's tank top.

When Santana drew back breathlessly, she almost whined, "But don't you want to hear my pet name for you?"

"Sexy shit," Quinn warned, pinning her girlfriend's wrists over her head with narrowed eyes, "Don't tease," she leaned forward to kiss Santana again, tongue slipping in and her girlfriend's laughter became low moans of pleasure.

Pet names? What pet names?

* * *

"You know sexy shit, I was thinking, we never actually got to my pet name," Quinn announced as they were walking to the train station, hand in hand.

"And whose fault was that?"

"I was thinking yours. You're awfully distracting," she smiled as she thought of their very busy, activity-laden Saturday.

"That I can be," Santana grinned at her and squeezed her hand, "I'll take the blame then. Now, let me think," there was a long pause as she considered her options, "How about white chick?" she finally piped up, "I love that movie!"

"You can't be serious?" Quinn stopped walking to look at her in mortification.

"Why not?"

"First, it's an awful pet name. Second, it sounds derogatory."

"How is it derogatory? You are white and you are a chick? It's the perfect name!" Santana argued with a frown. She really did love that movie.

"We don't have to be so literal! I don't call you a raging bitch, do I? Even though you are one?"

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend," Santana pouted in mock dismay, "Besides, if I'm a raging bitch, so are you and we both can't have the same name. So, you don't like white chick?" she asked again, in the hope that Quinn would change her mind.

When the blonde merely gave her an unimpressed glare, she held out her hands in surrender and sighed, "Fine, not white chick it is," she said as they resumed their hike to the station.

"What's wrong with white chick?" Santana grumbled again after a minute had passed, looking genuinely disappointed.

Quinn sighed, running her fingers through her hair, "Babe, it's too literal. It takes the romance out of it."

"Oh," Santana drawled out in understanding, "It's supposed to be romantic. Why didn't you say so?"

Quinn wanted to beat her over the head with a club, "Why am I even dating you?"

"Now, now, there's no need to hurt my feelings," Santana scolded with a wag of her finger, "So, we want romantic huh? Hmmmm. How about something like cutie pie, angel, beautiful, princess?" she tested each name on her tongue with a shudder, "Is that romantic enough babe?"

"It's not romantic if you spit it out like it's poison," Quinn reasoned.

"I did not spit!" Santana cried out indignantly but she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand just to check.

Quinn rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's literal interpretation, "You know what I mean. You're saying it like you've just swallowed a bitter pill."

"Oh, was I doing that? Sorry babe. Let me try it again," she cleared her throat and hollered at the top of her voice, "Sugarpuff, I'm home!" she stifled a giggle with her knuckles when Quinn slapped her on the arm, "How do people do this with a serious face?"

When Quinn fixed her with a glare, she swallowed her laughter, "Okay, okay there's no need to get mad, Babyboo," she burst out into peals of laughter for the second time, "Quinn! I can't do this!"

"You're not even trying!" Quinn tugged her hand free of their intertwined ones and crossed her arms over her chest.

"C'mon babe, don't be mad."

When Quinn continued to sulk, Santana tried again, "Quincy? Quinnster? Q-ball? Qtip? Quinopolis? Quinntanimo? No? Yeah, they all sound awful," she grimaced and scuffed at the ground, "Why do you need a pet name anyway? I love your name and it suits you. You're smart and you're beautiful, just like your name," she said it in such a matter-of-factly tone that Quinn couldn't help but melt.

"You really think I'm beautiful?" With anyone else, she would be afraid to show her vulnerability and her insecurity but with Santana, she would never fear being looked down upon for such a seemingly self-absorbed question.

Santana knew and understood her every scar, her every stretch mark, her daddy issues, her fear of being left alone and she embraced them all, "The most beautiful."

"Even compared to you?"

"Definitely," Santana pecked her on the lips with an impish smile, "But I'm still hotter."

"Because you're sexy shit?" Quinn teased and Santana ducked her head shyly, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ears.

"Yeah, about that, I've changed my mind."

Quinn pretended to be shocked, "You mean you don't want to be called sexy shit anymore?"

"It doesn't quite roll of the tongue, does it?" Santana asked with a slight grimace, "Especially during our sexy times. Takes the romance out of it. I think we should just stick to our names, babe."

"Yeah. We're not that kind of couple anyway," Quinn agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss.


	8. Babysitting

**A/N: This chapter was originally half the length but I figured having 2 short chapters in a row would be mean. So, there you go!**

**To those wondering how long this fic would be, I honestly don't know. Maybe 1 more chapter, maybe 2 more chapters, or maybe up to 15 chapters. My point is: I suppose as long as I feel inspired and I see people still reading, I'll continue adding to the fic. But meanwhile, I'm pursuing another story idea on the sideline, though if that comes to fruition, it's going to be a far cry from this one. **

**But that's not important, what's important is how Santana and Quinn fare as babysitters. **

* * *

"No."

"Come on Santana, it's just going to be for a day."

"No."

"At least think about it."

Santana thought it an achievement when she actually considered for a moment, but then she shook her head, "Okay, thought about it. No."

"But baby!" Quinn whined, her shoulders slumped over in disappointment.

"The baby is precisely why I'm saying no," Santana replied smartly.

"She's not a baby anymore, she's like a year and three months old."

"As long as she's drinking milk from a bottle, she's a baby."

"But you said we'll spend my whole summer vacation together."

Santana frowned and shrugged a little, "I'm sure we can afford a day or two apart."

"….."

When she didn't hear a response, Santana turned from the coffee machine to see her girlfriend sulking with her arms crossed over her chest. She let out a long-suffering sigh, "It's just for one day right?"

Quinn immediately perked up, "Yes."

Her expression was so hopeful that Santana couldn't find it in herself to say no but she still had a reputation to uphold. No way was she making it that easy.

"When is this again?"

"Next Tuesday. I've already checked your schedule. The bar is going to be closed that week for that renovation thing you told me about. I thought we could make it a holiday, you know? My sister has a guest room and there's an awesome beach just a twenty-minute drive away. You've been wanting to wear that new bikini you bought, haven't you?"

"Trust me, I can wear my bikini anywhere," Santana scoffed with pride.

"Yeah but imagine all the attention you'll be getting on the beach…. And from me," Quinn breathed huskily into her girlfriend's ear, walking her fingers up the brunette's arm to the sensitive spot on her neck, "So how about it?"

"Alright, fine, fine, fine," Santana finally conceded and Quinn squealed in delight.

"Thanks babe," the blonde leaned forward to peck her on the lips, happiness radiating off her in waves.

And that was how Santana found herself roped in for her first ever babysitting stint.

* * *

**Day 1 - Afternoon**

"Quinnie! You look amazing!" Frannie exclaimed the moment she opened the door, pulling her sister into a warm hug, "Thanks so much for doing this! You too Santana."

"It's so nice to see you too," Quinn gushed back, equally enthused at seeing her sister. The last time she had visited her sister's family in Los Angeles was during the New Year holidays. Ariel had just not even turned one then. Now, it was June and she was excited to see just how much her niece had grown. Skype just had nothing on a face-to-face meet up.

"Where's Ariel and Nick?" she glanced around the house after Frannie had all but pushed them in, eager to set eyes on her niece.

"I'll take you to her later. She's taking her afternoon nap and Nick," Frannie rolled her eyes and it was no mystery as to who Quinn got her infamous eye roll from, "He's watching her sleep. You would think we're going to be away for a month instead of just three days."

Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head subtly but the damage had already been done.

"What? What's wrong?"

Before Quinn could answer, Santana stepped in, her voice smooth and silky like a python, "I don't mean to be rude but did you just say you'll be away for three days?"

"Yes, we're so excited! After Ariel was born, Nick and I have had no time to ourselves," Frannie rambled on, unaware of the titan she had just unleashed.

Santana simply smiled politely and waited till Frannie had turned back around before giving Quinn's arm a merciless pinch.

"Ow!"

"What the hell Quinn," Santana hissed under her breath, smile turned into a snarl. Quinn wondered how Frannie had missed the pointy teeth, "You said one day!"

"There were a few last minute changes," Quinn said apologetically then had to muffle a yelp when Santana pinched her again, "Stop that! That's domestic abuse!" she hissed back, rubbing at her sore arm. It was definitely going to bruise.

"It's not that bad. It's just an extra day."

"Frannie said three days!"

"Well, today is more of a half day and Frannie and Nick will be back on Thursday afternoon so that's a half day too!" Quinn tried to reason but her girlfriend was adamant.

"But your sister said three days! It's not really co…Don't give me that look," Santana narrowed her eyes warily when Quinn turned puppy eyes on her, "That's against the rules!"

"Oh come on," Quinn decided to change tactics. She took Santana's hand in hers and swung it playfully, "We're already here, and Frannie has a King-sized bed," she sing-sang, adding a wet kiss on Santana's neck for good measure.

"You..you suck," Santana responded feebly but did not pull away.

"I sure can, if that's what you want."

Santana only groaned in reply.

It was obvious who had won the round.

* * *

Santana watched moodily as Quinn cooed over the creature.

Frannie and her husband had left not fifteen minutes when the creature had started wailing at the top of its voice and God, did it have a set of pipes. She thought it might even be able to give Rachel a run for her money.

For both of their sakes, she was glad that Quinn had managed to stop the creature's cries. For one, she was getting a massive headache. Two, although they generally spent 70% of their time arguing, Santana really liked what Quinn and her shared. But she would be a fool if she thought their relationship was actually strong enough to withstand a murder, specifically her killing Quinn's niece. And she was no fool. That would probably be written as one of the "DO NOT DOS" in a relationship – Do not kill your girlfriend's niece.

They should also probably have added, "Do not force your girlfriend to babysit" in that black book. Why wasn't that law? Life was so unfair.

"Santana, come and take a look at her. Isn't she adorable?" Quinn twittered and Santana swore she saw heart shapes appear in her girlfriend's eyes.

Yep. This was definitely the worst vacation ever. Not only was she going to have to share her girlfriend with that creature, she was also going to be expected to shower attention on the very thing that she wanted to strangle.

Life was definitely unfair.

"Santana, come here. I want to introduce you."

"What for? She's like one –"

"One year and 3 months," Quinn corrected.

"It's not as if she'll remember me," Santana complained but shuffled over anyway.

Since she was there, she decided she might as well take a good look to size up the competition. After a five second once-over, she stuck her chin up, unimpressed.

"Ariel, this is Santana, my girlfriend. Say hello!"

"Lo," the creature said and lifted up one fat paw in greeting, "Ana!"

Okay, so it was pretty smart for a one-year plus old thing.

"Awww, she likes you babe. You think Santana is pretty too?"

"Pwetty!" Ariel cheered and nodded, waving the paws around.

Okay, so she was smart _and_ had good taste.

Then, the creature flashed its dimples and stared up at her with its huge, blue eyes and okay, maybe it looked kind of human. And she was kind of cute with those rosy cheeks and fluttering lashes. But still, did she always have to have that expression?

"What's wrong with her face?" she finally blurted out, unable to keep it in any longer.

"What? What's wrong with her face?" Quinn turned her niece around on her lap, running anxious eyes over the little girl's profile.

"There's something wrong with her face," Santana repeated, gesturing vaguely at Ariel's face, "It's all scrunched up and crumpled, like a piece of paper."

There was a few seconds of silence, then, "It's called smiling, Santana. Perhaps you should try it some day," she said dryly.

"Well get her to stop it. It's not attractive."

To Ariel, Santana said, "Stop that. Why are you always smiling? What do you know?"

That was all she got out before Quinn shoved her face away.

* * *

**Day 1 – Night**

Santana was waiting impatiently for Quinn to join her in bed. Her girlfriend was currently putting Ariel to sleep in her crib but dammit, why was she taking so long? She was getting all lonely and cold in Frannie's king-sized bed. Not to mention bored. And sex-deprived.

She huffed and had just gotten off the bed with the intention of searching for her girlfriend when the latter opened the door.

"Oh," was all Quinn said when she set eyes on the scantily clad brunette. A low and nagging ache started from her belly and travelled all the way down to her groin.

"What the hell took so long?" Santana complained, running frustrated fingers through her messy locks as she stood by the bed in nothing but her lingerie, "I thought I was going to have to do this by myself."

How Santana looked so adorable and so fucking sexy even when she was sulking was anyone's guess but that had always been a talent of hers, and Quinn didn't care as long as she got to touch her.

She strode forward and brought her girlfriend to her in one hard jerk. The surprise on Santana's face made her laugh. She was hardly aggressive but whenever she was, it never failed to stupefy Santana and in turn, amuse Quinn. She thought their slap fights would have been a hint as to how aggressive she could be in bed but apparently not.

She twined her finger around Santana's hair and leaned down to plunder the lips she so loved. No matter how many times she did it, kissing Santana was always exciting. Santana's kisses were dependent on her mood and this kiss was especially ravenous. Their tongues battled and their teeth nipped. Hands slid over skin, kneaded, scraped and scratched, and soon enough, Quinn had to break the kiss so that Santana could tug her t-shirt over her head.

"Someone's impatient," she husked, hazel eyes twinkling and face flushed from both want and exertion.

"Less talking, more kissing," Santana commanded, pushing Quinn to the bed with her body, "More using of the king-sized bed."

When Quinn laughed again, Santana bit her shoulder and shut her up. Together, they tumbled onto the bed, Quinn's hair spreading over the sheets like a pool of wild honey.

But even when they were lying down, there was no rest. They wrestled, rolled and groped, both competing to be the top. When Quinn finally surrendered, Santana whooped in triumph, the action a clue to her silly and playful nature that only people close to her had the privilege to see.

"You're a dork," Quinn panted, her hands positioned over her girlfriend's hips.

"I'm your dork," Santana corrected as she bent over to place an especially tender kiss on Quinn's lips.

When her hand slipped under the wiring of Quinn's bra to fondle the breast she had found, Quinn found she couldn't disagree. Instead, she moaned and arched up, her hips bucking under Santana for more contact.

Through the haze of pleasure and the roaring in her head, it took a long ten seconds before Quinn heard the crying in the background.

"Do you hear that?" she murmured against Santana's lips, though her hands never stopped sliding up and down her girlfriend's toned body. God, she loved how Santana felt.

"Hear what?" Santana nibbled on her lips, trailing down to place wet kisses on her neck, her chest, her stomach even as her nimble fingers started work on the button of her shorts.

"Wait wait," Quinn breathed, pushing Santana's head away. She couldn't think when those lips were on her like that.

'What the fuck?"

"Listen," Quinn insisted with a finger over her lips.

They both listened – Quinn out of concern, Santana out of indignation that she had actually been shoved away.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Ariel is crying!" Quinn rolled out from under Santana, and was out of the room in a flash.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Santana shouted after her, her arms thrown out in disbelief and annoyance.

When Quinn darted back to the room almost immediately, she brightened up but her hopes were dashed quickly, "Oops forgot my shirt. I'll be right back babe!"

And she was gone.

Left alone, Santana could only gape unattractively, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. She flopped down onto the bed, buried her head in the pillow and screamed.

So much for the king-sized bed.

* * *

**Day 2 - Morning**

Needless to say, the night had been a disaster and Santana was hardly in the best of moods. She was scowling to herself, nibbling on her P & J sandwich when Quinn decided to make her morning worse.

"Hey babe, could you help me to hold Ariel for a minute? I need to make Ariel her milk."

"What? No!"

"Just for a minute, hun. You can set your timer."

"Why can't you just like breastfeed her?"

Quinn turned to shoot her a withering look, "Just because I had a baby doesn't mean my breasts can produce milk on command."

"Well then, why can't I make the milk?"

"Do you know how much water and milk powder to put? The temperature of the water?"

Santana squirmed at Quinn's hard stare, "No, but you could teach me and…"

Quinn simply leaned over and plonked the wriggling child into her arms, before turning on her heels to the kitchen.

"Quinn!" Santana hissed, holding Ariel out with her arms stretched out in front of her with wide, frightened eyes, "Quinn! Get back here!"

Quinn's voice floated out from the kitchen.

"I'll be just a minute! Start counting!"

No, no, no, no. This couldn't be happening. She had never told anyone this but she was terrified of babies. They reminded her of overgrown hamsters, just without the fur.

"What if I drop her?" her voice came out a nervous, high-pitched whine.

"You won't drop her. She's barely twenty pounds."

"Pounds!" Ariel chimed in happily.

When it was clear Quinn was not going to come to her rescue, Santana turned in a small circle with Ariel's armpits still tucked over her outstretched hands. She saw the corner sofa and decided that sitting down was a safer option. She waddled over, all the while muttering darkly, "Barely twenty pounds my ass. I bet you're at least twenty-five."

"Ass!" Ariel imitated, beaming up at her babysitter with winking dimples.

Santana's brows lifted in surprise. Hmmm, maybe they would be able to get along okay after all.

Once she was settled, she took a few seconds to decide how to place Ariel. On her lap? Yeah that seemed okay, only the little girl was looking up at her with the biggest, bluest, most disturbing eyes and "Quinn! She's staring at me!" she blinked away and squirmed self-consciously.

Funny how she could stare down a grown man twice her size while she had lost a staring competition to a freaking baby. A baby, for Christ's sake. Santana Lopez was not a pussy, she reminded herself.

She heard Quinn laugh, "That's because you're pretty."

Humph, as if flattery would get her anywhere.

"Well, tell her to quit it. She's giving me the creeps."

"Santana! You can't talk like that in front of a baby! Besides, she's just figuring you out."

Scowling, Santana decided not to waste her breath on Quinn. Young minds were more susceptible. She turned to Ariel, took a good look at her and poked her in the nose, "You can't look at people like that. You think just because you're cute, you get to stare? People would think you've got the hots for me and that's just not okay. Only your Aunty Quinn can look at me like that. You got that?"

She added one of her famed intimidating glares for good measure and was feeling pretty damn proud of herself when Ariel gurgled and clapped her hands in glee, honey blonde curls dancing around her face.

Santana frowned and bounced the girl on her thighs, "What are you laughing at you little twat. I'm trying to give you a talking to. Do you hear me?"

Ariel squealed and giggled, "Up!"

"No, no," Santana shook her head in exasperation and touched her forehead to Ariel's sternly, "No up. My arms are aching enough as it is. Why are you so heavy for such a little thing?"

"Up!" the little girl demanded again, stretching out her chubby hands and kicking out her feet.

"God, it's like talking to a wall."

But when Ariel poked out her bottom lip and started sniffling, Santana felt her resolve weakening, "Fine, fine, fine, up it is. Jesus, you're demanding for such a wee thing," she tossed the girl up and the sniffles turned to high-pitched squeals of delight.

"High! High!"

"You want to be a flyer like your Aunty Quinn?" Santana asked as she put more force behind her tosses, smiling at the little girl's enthusiasm despite herself.

"Aunty Quinn! Aunty Quinn!" Ariel babbled, giggling hysterically.

"That's right. She was a damn good flyer if I could say so myself," Santana said proudly, adjusting her grip on the girl so she could fly her like a plane.

"Word," Quinn grinned, walking up to the pair with a milk bottle in her hand and a twinkle in her eye. The milk had been made a while ago, but when she had emerged from the kitchen to see Santana so at ease with her niece, she couldn't help but stand, admire and appreciate the view from afar. They made such an adorable pair.

"Dammit! You scared me!" Santana cradled the girl in one arm while the other hand flew over her heart, "I almost dropped her."

"Dammit!" Ariel echoed joyfully and Santana looked down at her with what Quinn thought was akin to pride.

"You know what Q? Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"Hi! Hello! Hi!" Ariel squealed and flailed happily, sticking one of her stubby fingers up Santana's nostrils in the process.

"Okay no, eew gross," Santana's head jerked back, scowl reappearing on her pretty face, "That's it, time's up. Quinn, get her off me!"

* * *

**Day 2 – Afternoon**

Ariel had just woken up from her nap and was currently entertaining herself in the middle of the living room, surrounded by her army of soft toys.

Quinn and Santana watched from the couch, snuggled up in each other's arms, as Ariel babbled to her pretend pets, batting them on the heads with her pudgy hands.

"I hope your sister doesn't intend to get her real pets?" Santana looked on, amused when the toddler knocked down one of the stuffed dogs with an over-affectionate pat on the head, "She's not exactly the gentle type."

Quinn smiled down fondly at her niece, "Unlikely. Frannie hates animals."

"Then why did she get one?"

"Santana," Quinn swatted her girlfriend's arm half-heartedly, "Don't be mean."

The brunette chuckled at her own joke and a full minute passed in comfortable silence until Ariel decided she had enough of sitting.

She gurgled, clapped her hands and gave a clumsy sort of push until she was standing on wobbly legs, rocking and swaying dangerously like a seasick passenger. Eyes bright and shiny with pleasure at the accomplished feat, Ariel lifted one leg, then the other, in a kind of joyful march.

"Quinn, Quinn!" Santana sat up anxiously, smacking the blonde repeatedly on the side of her thighs, "What's she doing? Do something or she's going to fall."

As if to prove her right, one of Ariel's legs gave a particularly violent wobble and the little girl tumbled back on her rump. The little lips quivered and Ariel threw back her head, sending up a loud wail.

Quinn bent down, ready to comfort but Santana was quicker. She watched, surprised as her girlfriend swooped down and scooped the girl up in her arms, patting her on the back, "There, there. There's no need to cry. Your butt is so fat it didn't hurt that much, did it? You're just a little shocked from the fall that's all."

"Fall on my bum!" Ariel sobbed at the top of her lungs, fat tears dribbling down her cheeks.

"That's right. You fell on your bum."

"Kiss it better."

Santana turned to Quinn with a wicked glint in her eyes, "Okay honey. Aunty Quinn will kiss it better for you, wont you babe?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's childish antics but she was happy to oblige, "Only if you stop crying. Deal?" she held out her pinky for a shake.

Little Ariel nodded obediently and hooked her pinky to her aunt's, her sobs already reduced to sniffles as she sucked on her thumb.

After Quinn had pressed her lips to her niece's diapered rump, the sniffles stopped and Ariel puckered up her own lips, "Kiss."

Quinn sighed and gave them a friendly peck. The little girl then turned her attention to the woman holding her, "Kiss," she demanded again.

"Urgh, no way in hell —" she faltered at the glare Quinn sent her, " – oween. No way in Halloween," she corrected and grimaced at the wet tears and snot on the girl's face, "You're all snotty and yucky. The only girl Imma be kissing is your Aunty Quinn," she nodded more to herself than to Ariel, but when the little girl started pushing at her lips to make them pucker, she found herself laughing and couldn't help but soften, "Okay fine you cheeky monkey."

She brushed her lips over the girl's brow, where the danger of contracting some sort of snot disease was minimal, and Ariel finally quieted in her arms.

"What?" she asked, unnerved when she saw Quinn looking at her with the strangest of expressions.

"Nothing," Quinn said as she continued staring.

"Seriously, what?"

Quinn grinned at the annoyance in Santana's voice and so, settled it the only way she knew how. She leaned in to steal a kiss from the brunette, "I love you."

Her girlfriend's cheeks pinked instantly and she blustered at the unexpected confession, "You taste like snot," was all she managed before she turned away to put Ariel down.

But Quinn had caught the shy, satisfied smile on Santana's face.

* * *

**Day 2 – Night**

Ariel had been crying non-stop after her bath. Even when Quinn had put her in her crib, she had wailed and blubbered and refused to stop fussing.

Santana had been the one to suggest putting Ariel on her parents' bed.

"I think she misses her parents. Maybe smelling their scent on the bed will calm her down."

And miraculously it had. Santana had offered to watch over Ariel while Quinn went to clean herself up. (Considering her girlfriend had been the one who insisted she washed off the snot and tears, it really was the least she could do.)

When she stepped out of the bathroom freshly-showered, she smiled at the unexpectedly sweet sight before her.

Both Ariel and Santana were fast asleep on the bed. Ariel had her hand bunched up in a fist near her cheek, her breathing slow and deep as only a baby's was. Her girlfriend's arm was securely wrapped around the little girl's waist, her body curled around the child.

Unable to resist, Quinn got out her phone and snapped a shot of the sleeping pair. Then, as quietly as she could, she turned off the lights and climbed onto the bed on the other side of Ariel.

Sleep didn't come to her as easily as the other two sleeping beauties, so after her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she spent her time staring at the two beauties in front of her.

Although she was tired, she was happy as she could be. Was this what it would be like to have her own family, she couldn't help but wonder as she gazed adoringly at Santana and Ariel. Would Santana even want kids?

Her line of thoughts was broken when Ariel suddenly whimpered in her sleep. Unconsciously, Santana twitched and pulled the little girl closer to her side. Instantly, the whimpers stopped.

Yeah, Quinn smiled as she rested her hand on Santana's, her arm also positioned over Ariel's waist. Santana didn't know it yet but she was pretty confident that her girlfriend would eventually want kids. And when that time came, she would be sure to say yes.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Yay? Nay?**


	9. The Bookworm and the Baker

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follow and favourites! They're always a huge encouragement and I appreciate them very much. Without further ado, presenting to you Quinn the bookworm and Santana the baker. **

* * *

"Baby, I'm bored," Santana whined from her spot on the sofa; the same spot she had been lying on for the past hour.

They had originally made plans to spend the entire day at Central Park sunbathing and making out on the picnic mat, criticizing joggers and of course Santana's favourite - attempting to drown turtles with too-large, sodden slabs of bread.

Unfortunately, in their race down the stairs (yes, the elevator had broken down again), Santana had sprained her ankle. It was not a particularly bad sprain, just the type to cause some mild inconvenience for a few days. As long as Santana kept walking to a minimum, her ankle should be fine and dandy in a short time.

"Quinn, I'm bored," Santana whined again, as if she had not been loud enough the first time.

"I heard you. I'm just ignoring you," the blonde answered without looking up from her book.

Unlike Santana, Quinn had not been bothered by the need to move their activities indoors. Prior to the sprained ankle, she had already planned to do some reading at the park so for her, it was merely a change _in_ plan; she could easily read at the loft as she could in the park.

"You're a terrible nurse," Santana huffed, displeased that she was not getting any attention despite her condition.

"Good thing I'm not a nurse then," Quinn answered distractedly as her eyes continued down the page. Jonathan Safron Foer really was a fantastic writer and he made her heart break.

She sniffed and reached for a piece of tissue paper on the coffee table.

"Are you crying?" Santana asked when she heard Quinn blow her nose into the tissue, "Over a book?" she felt the need to add.

"No, I'm sweating through my eyes," Quinn replied dryly, completely unabashed at the show of emotion, "Yes Santana, I'm crying. How can I not after reading this?" she flapped the thin book in her hands, her eyes shining with tears of unbridled joy at the gem she had found, a joy which obviously Santana did not share.

"Why am I attached to such a geek?" the brunette rolled her eyes and plopped back down onto the couch, "Here I am, crippled and bored to death, without a drop of sympathy from my girlfriend and instead of fussing over my wellbeing like a good girlfriend would do, there you are spending your time poring a book."

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's childishness but she did finally look up from her book, "It's not as if you've never sprained your ankle before. Besides, it's not a bad sprain. We used to get tons of those when we were in the Cheerios."

"Yeah, but it still hurts," Santana pouted, refusing to budge.

"Only if you move it, so stop squirming."

"Can you at least sit here with me, so I can put my head on your lap?"

Quinn sighed before obliging. She stood up from the single sofa she was on and moved over to the couch, where Santana happily dropped her head onto her thighs.

"There, now everybody is happy!" the brunette smiled up at her girlfriend and peace was restored for an hour.

* * *

After more whining and complaints from Santana, Quinn finally decided to put her book aside and get the ingredients needed for her girlfriend's new baking assignment.

"I don't think the bananas are ripe enough."

Santana turned to look at the bunch of yellow fruits Quinn is holding up and hummed in agreement.

"Well, what should I do?"

"Chuck it into the oven," Santana joked, measuring out the sugar and tossing it into the mixer with the flour.

"So they'll ripen?"

"Yeah," Santana muttered, distracted as she squinted at the next instruction while munching on a Skittle.

As she was beating the eggs in, she heard two little thud sounds and looked behind her shoulder to investigate. Two bananas stared out forlornly at her through the oven glass, "Why did you toss the bananas in the oven for?" she asked, slightly shocked as she hobbled over to the oven to turn the heat down.

"You told me to!" Quinn hurried over to retrieve her beloved fruits with a pair of tongs, "I've got it! Sit down!"

Santana burst out laughing, "Quinn I was just joking. Why don't you throw yourself in there for a suntan while you're at it?"

Slightly put out and very much embarrassed, Quinn placed the bananas next to the mixing bowl, which she then peered into. It was not out of curiosity that she did it; rather, her bent head allowed her cascading hair to hide her blushing face and boy was she glad she looked in.

"Are those…. Are those egg shells?" She pointed to the little bits in the batter, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"Oh. Is that what they are?" Santana stopped stirring to take a closer look, "I thought they were sugar lumps," she shrugged once then continued stirring.

Quinn blinked and waited but after ten seconds had passed without Santana stopping, she just had to ask, "Aren't you taking them out?"

Her girlfriend looked at her as if she had gone insane, "Do you know how long that would take me? I don't mind them a little crunchy."

When Quinn continued to stare at her in disgust, she threw up her hands and grumbled, "Okay fine! I'll take them out but you're going to help!"

"Why should I help? You're the one who broke the shells in. You create the problem, you fix the problem," she picked up the packet of Skittles and rummaged through for purple, "Did you eat all the grape-flavoured ones again?"

Santana briefly glanced over from where she was picking up egg-shells with a fork, mumbling Spanish expletives under her breath that Quinn knew were aimed at her, "No. They came without the purple. Stop stealing my Skittles!" she snatched the pack out of Quinn's hands and set it by the mixing bowl. There, she hovered over her treasure protectively.

"Fine. Be a selfish bitch and get fat all by yourself."

Quinn deliberately waited another minute before she acted. She glanced once at Santana's stomach, looked back down at the table then looked over again. When she felt the brunette's curious eyes on her, she quickly turned away.

"What?"

"Nothing," she answered a little too quickly.

"No, what?" Santana asked again, eyes flitting down to her own midsection a little self-consciously.

Again, Quinn answered the same way, making sure to add an unconvincing shrug this time around, "Nothing!"

"Seriously Q, what?"

Quinn bit her lip, gave just the right amount of hesitation to convey her reluctance before pasting a concerned expression on her face, "You know how I was just kidding earlier on about getting fat on the skittles?"

Santana's fidgeting fingers and tapping feet manifested her nervousness, and Quinn couldn't help but draw out the moment. God, her girlfriend was just too precious. Not to mention excessively vain. Consider this a lesson in "Don't mess with the Quinn Fabray".

Pasting a concerned expression on her face, she leaned forward and poked Santana in her tummy, "Did you actually gain a little weight? Just a little mind you. Maybe a couple of pounds?"

The change in Santana's whole demeanor was gratifying to watch. Her mouth dropped open and she looked down at her completely lean body in horror, "What? Where? Take over," she commanded, pushing the fork and bowl at Quinn before hobbling as fast as she could out of the kitchen. It was an easy guess as to where she was going.

Two minutes later, Santana stomped back in, scowling with one hand clenched over a weighing scale and the other holding her shirt up, "My abs are still here! Gain weight, my ass!"

"Maybe you should check your ass?" Quinn batted her lashes and smiled sweetly as she looked up from her work.

"Screw you," Santana sulked, grabbing the bowl back from Quinn.

"I thought you already have sweetie but we can do it again if you like," she giggled, pressing a kiss to the top of Santana's head before heading out to watch some television. While baking really wasn't her thing, riling her girlfriend up was.

As she was leaving, she thought she heard a little, unhappy "Humph, she's lucky I love her" being muttered from behind.

Ten minutes later, when Quinn returned to the kitchen to check on Santana's progress with the egg shells, she walked in to see Santana looking over her shoulder, trying to get a good look at her own butt.

She smirked. So easy.

* * *

"Santana, where do you keep the vanilla essence?" Quinn asked as she checked the cupboards, flipping through the bottles in there.

"I asked you to buy it, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You asked me to get Vanilla ice cream."

"No, I didn't. I wrote Vanilla Essence you greedy pig. Check the list!"

With a huge sigh, Quinn headed to her bag to pull out the crumpled piece of paper containing the grocery list. She scanned the list and heaved out another sigh, "You just wrote vanilla," she jabbed a finger at the word, scrawled out in Santana's messy handwriting.

"Yeah see, I told you I told you to buy it."

"No," Quinn tried patiently, "You told me to get vanilla." When Santana continued staring at her blankly, she added with exasperation, "You just told me to get vanilla. Vanilla with a full-stop."

"Figures your fat ass would buy vanilla ice cream," Santana snickered as she walked over to the cupboard to join Quinn in rifling through their pantry stock.

"How was I supposed to know Vanilla referred to Vanilla essence? I'm smart but not that smart! I can't read minds," she shot back.

"I'm glad you've finally realised the limits of your brain capacity. How about this one?" Santana read as she limped back to the mixing bowl with a small bottle of herbs, "It says here All Spice," she popped off the cap to shake some of the contents into the bowl before Quinn could stop her.

"Why did you do that for!" Quinn hurried back to the table but Santana had already stirred the herbs in with her whisk.

"What? It says All Spice right? There has got to be some vanilla essence in there."

Quinn sank down into the chair in defeat, hands over her head, "It's over."

* * *

The couple stared down at Santana's finished work between them. The baker's laptop sat next to the plate, the screen displaying a delectable loaf of banana cake. Their eyes darted to and fro between their own lumpy, black cake set on the table to the perfect one on the screen.

Quinn was the first one to break the silence, "It doesn't really look the same, does it?"

She tilted her head to get a better look. Maybe it would look better from a different angle.

"Maybe you should stand on my side. I think it looks quite similar if I look at it like this," Santana demonstrated by squinting, partially closing her eyes more and more and more until eventually, she gave up and closed them completely, "There they look the same now."

Quinn huffed out a laugh, then bent over to sniff at the cake, "Maybe it just looks bad. That doesn't mean it tastes bad yeah?"

Happy that Quinn had just given her a way out, Santana nodded enthusiastically and sniffed the air, "Yeah, totally. It smells like er someone has just baked in here."

That wasn't a complete lie. The kitchen did smell like someone had just baked in there but it also smelled like a fire had just been snuffed out.

"Okay, so here's a fork. You try it!" Santana offered generously.

"What? No! You're the baker. You try it."

"No way. I've put in all the work so you eat first."

"No can do. The baker always tastes first."

"That's right. I'm the baker so I get to choose who tries it first."

"You know what? Let's just try it together," Quinn extended her right hand out for a shake.

"Fine," Santana rolled her eyes and accepted the compromise, "On three. One. Two. Three."

They both dug their forks in. Or rather, they attempted to dig their forks in but the cutlery simply bounced off.

"Oh well. We tried," Quinn concluded after a few tries, utterly relieved that she would not have to eat what now appeared to be a paperweight. The only reason why she had even decided to eat the rock was because she had not wanted to hurt her girlfriend's feelings but the next time Santana suggested baking, she would definitely remember to distract her with sex.

And just when she thought the matter was over, Santana suddenly came up with a grand plan, "Oh I know! Maybe it's just the outside that's hard. I can cut away the charred parts."

When Santana came back with the knife, Quinn thought stabbing herself with it would be a better use of the tool.

* * *

"Why thank you Santana," Rachel glanced down at her tiny slice of cake. She stared it for a long time before looking up in confusion, dragging her eyes from an equally-confused Kurt, to Quinn and finally to Santana, "What's this for?"

Quinn could hardly blame her for her apprehension. Before today, Santana had never set foot in the kitchen to bake. And she sure wished it had stayed that way. The only consolation was that after chopping off the inedible parts, what was left was just a morsel. Nobody could get poisoned from just a morsel right?

Santana shrugged, "Quinn and I were bored so we decided to bake."

Quinn shot her girlfriend a glare, "Santana was bored so she decided to bake."

She thought it was important to clarify that.

Strained laughter bubbled from Rachel's throat, "Well thank you for giving us a piece of this.. erm… what's this?"

"Banana cake," Kurt supplied, looking as uneasy as Rachel must be feeling.

"It's my first try so I thought as my roommates, you deserve a bite."

Ever softhearted and ready to do anything when the friendship card was pulled, Rachel practically melted in her chair as she gushed, "Awwww, Santana, that was so sweet. Thank you!"

She beamed as she picked up her fork and stuck it into the cake, but Quinn doubted very much that she would still feel the same way after tasting the "cake".

"Thank you Santana," Kurt smiled as he too picked up his fork, "Quinn, aren't you eating?"

"Not in this lifetime. I would rather.." Quinn mumbled but is forced to stop when Santana kicked her in the shin from under the table, "I've had my share," she gritted out through clenched teeth and unable to resist, added under her breath, "And have since spat it out."

Thankfully for her, the last part went unheard by her companions.

"Oh," Rachel said delicately after placing a forkful of cake in her mouth. Quinn could see she was struggling not to grimace, "Erm. Is that nutmeg in your banana cake?" she swallowed painfully and with difficulty, and Quinn was impressed she could actually taste something beyond the burned flavour that had permeated the whole cake.

"You added pepper?" Kurt coughed and grabbed for the pitcher of water that Quinn had very kindly and subtly prepared on the table.

"Is it that bad?" Santana frowned as she stared hard at what she had been slaving over the past two hours, "I've already chopped off all the charred parts."

Kurt chuckled nervously, his eyes still watering, "Is that why the cake is so small?"

"Maybe," Santana's answer was ambiguous as she brought up the plate to sniff, "Can you guys taste the vanilla essence?"

Kurt was about to answer when a gagging sound from Rachel attracted their attention.

"Sorry," she wheezed, thumping herself hard on the chest, "I think I just swallowed a skittle."

* * *

That night, Quinn sat at the bottom of the bed, Santana's foot in her hand.

"Oooh yeah, that's the spot. Fuck yeah. That feels so good," Santana moaned as Quinn massaged her swollen ankle.

The blonde shook her head in amusement, "If you continue like that, Kurt and Rachel are going to think we're going at it again."

"Yeah, then should I be louder?" Santana chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She looked so mighty pleased with herself that Quinn couldn't help bringing her lips down to kiss the foot in her hand.

"Eeeew Quinn," Santana tried to pull her foot away but Quinn held on tight, "My foot isn't clean."

"I don't care," she smiled and bent down again to kiss Santana's toe, "I love you, even with your smelly feet."

"My feet don't smell!" Santana protested with a frown, "I've already showered."

"The point is I love you and do you know what that means?" she continued, insistent that Santana understood she really did love her.

Quinn knew she had her mood swings and her temper tantrums, and sometimes, she said things she didn't mean to say when she got mad. As her girlfriend, Santana often got the brunt of her anger. It didn't help that Santana herself had an equally vicious tongue. As with anything they did, when they fought, they fought hard. But that didn't mean she loved Santana any less. If anything, it meant she loved Santana more because she could be certain that no matter how acerbic she was on any given day, Santana was not going anywhere.

"I love you means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."

So what if she was quoting Jonathan Safron Foer? The words had come so easily to her because she had meant it with every fiber of her soul and every inch of her heart.

"Damn."

And that was not the reaction she had been expecting.

"He's good."

"Who's good?" Quinn asked, completely baffled.

"That Foie Gras guy you were reading this morning."

'Who?"

"The one you were crying over? You just quoted from the book right?"

Quinn laughed and nodded in relief. There was always a danger that Santana would be a prick during one of her more sentimental moments. That girl sometimes really didn't know how to handle other people's feelings. She was glad today was not the day.

"Jonathan Safron Foer," she corrected.

"Whatever. Can you say that when we have sex? I bet it would be really, really hot. You know what? Let's try it now," Santana extracted her foot from Quinn's hand, replacing the limb with her entire body as she practically leapt into the blonde's lap to kiss her very soundly on the mouth.

"But your ankle," Quinn managed breathlessly in between kisses.

"You can do all the work," Santana growled out before ripping off Quinn's nightie.

It seemed Kurt and Rachel would have cause to complain again the next morning.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. ****The quote about love was taken from Jonathan Safron Foyer's wonderful book 'Everything is Illuminated'. **

**Until next time!**


	10. Action Speaks Louder Than Words

**A/N: Thanks for the suggestions guys! They've been a great help! I'll see if inspiration hits. :D**

**Meanwhile, a short and hopefully sweet chapter to tide some time.**

* * *

Quinn tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Something had been bugging her all day. Finally, unable to keep it in any longer, she prodded her girlfriend in the back.

"Santana! Santana?" she whispered, "Are you asleep?"

"Jdksnebdiwje," Santana murmured indistinctly.

Yeah, that would do.

"Santana," Quinn hissed a little more urgently as she continued jabbing at her girlfriend, "Wake up. I have something important to ask you?"

There was a little grumbling, a lot of swearing then finally, a very reluctant, "What?"

"Why don't you ever tell me you love me?"

Radio silence told Quinn her girlfriend had dozed off again.

"Santana," Quinn whined, poking her sleepy girlfriend in the back again. She would not be able to sleep till she had received an answer.

Santana groaned and flipped around to face the blonde, "What?"

"Do you love me?"

"Not if you continue to ask me strange questions in the middle of the night," she mumbled blearily, "Now go back to sleep and leave me alone."

She made to pull the covers over her head but Quinn dragged it back down, "Santana, this is important!"

"Oh my god," she moaned, finally opening her eyes to take a good look at Quinn.

Her natural reaction was to bitch until Quinn let her go to bed but when she saw the troubled expression on the blonde's face, she knew she had no other choice but to listen and give Quinn what she wanted.

"Okay fine, fine," she huffed as she rubbed her eyes, "I'm awake now. What's your question again?"

"Do you love me?" Quinn fidgeted nervously.

Santana sighed in relief and gave Quinn a distracted peck on the forehead, "Of course I do honey. Now can we go to sleep?"

But of course when it came to Quinn, it was never that simple.

"Then why don't you ever say it?"

"Say what?" she blinked in confusion.

"Why don't you ever say that you love me?"

"Ohhhh," she drawled out in understanding as comprehension dawned.

"So you don't?" Quinn panicked upon seeing her reaction.

"Oh trust me babe. I definitely do," Santana said and reiterated it with a kiss.

"Then why don't you ever say it? Whenever I say 'I love you', you'll kiss me or you'll change the subject or you'll say 'me too' but you've never actually said it back."

"Okay, here's the thing babe," Santana shifted and pulled Quinn to her for a cuddle, "One thing I've learned about love is that it doesn't mean shit if you just say it. I mean I can't even remember how many times I've said it to Brittany and Dani, or how many times they've said it to me. And look, we aren't together anymore, are we?"

Her smile was tinged with sadness.

"Oh Santana," Quinn touched her lover's face in a move to comfort and soothe but the latter shook her off gently.

"Don't get me wrong, Quinn It's not about burying old hurts. It's not about forgetting the past. I don't say I love you because I've learned that action speaks louder than words. If you're unable to see my love for you, you're always going to be blind to it no matter how many times I say I love you."

"That's not true," Quinn frowned as she pushed herself into a sitting position, "In fact if I don't know it, shouldn't you say it more so I'll be made aware."

Santana shook her head and smiled, "How about I give you an analogy? Let's see," she tapped her finger against her chin as she pondered.

"Let's say a man cheats and a wife sees all the tell-tale signs. She smells the other woman's perfume on his shirt, she sees the lipstick stains, she sees the credit card statement with the bill for a diamond necklace she never receives. She asks her husband are you cheating on me?"

"Either he's incredibly stupid or rich not to have covered up the evidence," Quinn snorted.

"Just play along babe," Santana swatted her girlfriend's thigh playfully but continued on with her analogy, "He says no and she gets angry. She shoves the credit card statement at her cheater husband and asks what's this? She throws the soiled shirt in his face and screams at him, pointing to the lipstick stain. She demands to check his texts."

"The husband panics but only for a moment. Fortunately for him, he manages to gather his scattered brains in time and comes up with sound explanations. Diamond necklace - mother's birthday gift. Lipstick stain – a high school girl's kissing booth for fundraising. Perfume – a special scent he got the wife as a wedding anniversary present."

"Babe are you sure this didn't happen to you? Your story is pretty vivid isn't it?" Quinn teased but was shushed immediately.

"She thinks to herself, yeah they're legit reasons and apologises for throwing a fit. They have makeup sex, the husband is careful for a month and then the cycle starts again."

"Don't get me wrong, Santana. I'm enjoying the story but where is this going?"

"Maybe if you would stop interrupting me, you'll form the link," Santana grumbled with a frown but she still stopped to explain, "You see, the wife is clearly aware of her husband's infidelity but she refuses to call him out on it because she wants to hold on to him. Admitting that he is a cheater would mean admitting to herself that he doesn't respect their relationship any longer and that he no longer loves her. So she chooses to be blind to his extramarital affairs."

"Yes but many other factors play a part too. Shame that comes with divorce, discomfort if she changes her lifestyle, children amongst many others," Quinn pointed out, laying her head on Santana's lap.

"Yep but the point is that she sees what she wants to see. And she'll continue trying to convince herself that her husband is loyal to her because that's what comes easily for her."

"If I'm not wrong, one of your textbooks explains it using the term, cognitive dissonance. The wife is seeking consistency in her belief and perception of her husband, so she'll make up all sorts of excuses just to pardon him and convince herself that the man she had married years ago is still the same man he is today."

"You've actually gone through my textbooks?" Quinn sat up in pleasant surprise. She would have been lying if she had admitted otherwise, "Why you sneaky little nerd. To think that all this time, we could have been discussing Sigmund Freud and Leon Festinger," she smiled broadly.

"Shut up," Santana squirmed uncomfortably and if the light had been on, Quinn would bet all her money that her girlfriend was blushing furiously. That line about ethnic people not blushing was complete hubris.

"So, cognitive dissonance huh?" Quinn teased as she tapped Santana on the nose, "But you're using a negative example. How about a positive one?"

"Hmmmmm," there was a short period of silence as Santana thought, "Okay I got one," she finally said, grinning mischievously, her teeth flashing even in the dark.

"Two girlfriends are preparing for a dinner. One of them turns to the other and asks do I look fat in this dress? The other being the perfect girlfriend, genuinely thinks she looks gorgeous and tells her so. But the girlfriend remains unconvinced and continues preening in the mirror, saying but don't you think I have a little flab here and here and here," she started poking Quinn under her arm, in the stomach and the thighs.

"You're making fun of me," Quinn sulked but she was unable to hold that look for long, not when Santana was looking at her with such adoration and love.

"Yes but do you get my point now? I can tell you how perfect you look. I can tell you that every single day of your life, as many times as you want to hear, and you really do look flawless babe. But if you look at the mirror and only see flaws, I'll never be able to convince you otherwise. Similarly if I say I love you a hundred times, but you don't see my love for you shown in the tiniest ways, you're always going to doubt my words."

"But don't you think one should always express their love while they can, in all sorts of ways, including saying I love you?"

A wicked smile graced Santana's features, "You mean saying something like "I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."

Quinn couldn't help laughing at that stolen quote, "Stop teasing! And you've actually memorised that quote?"

"I'm an exceptionally fast learner when it comes to sex."

Quinn tugged at Santana's hair playfully, "And you've got a filthy mind."

"If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it walls, and we will furnish it with soft, red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweller's felt so that we should never hear it."

Again, Quinn was taken aback, "You read the book?"

Santana laughed and pushed Quinn back onto the bed, "I got it from goodreads. But I think I deserve some credit for the effort don't you think? Besides, I need to make a point."

Quinn grinned, knowing where this was going, "Yeah? And what point is that?"

"Well I think - ," Santana leaned over to take the blonde's bottom lip between her teeth, "- that when it comes to love, action speaks louder than words."

Quinn moaned when gentle finger skimmed lightly over her breast, "But my girlfriend begs to differ." When Santana started nipping at her jaw, trailing light, slow kisses down her throat, her shoulders, Quinn thought she might have to demonstrate what real begging was.

"Santana –" She started but was silenced with a kiss.

"But I really hate arguing with my girlfriend."

Again, she kissed her and this time, the intensity of it left Quinn weak in the knees. It was a good thing she was already lying down.

"So instead of saying I love you, how about I show you just how much I love you and we call it even?"

Quinn didn't even need to consider the offer as she grabbed Santana's neck and pulled the brunette down to her.

"Deal."

* * *

**Once again, quotes used are from Jonathan Safron Foyer's 'Everything is Illuminated'. For any confusion with regards to Santana's re-quote on love, please refer to the previous chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	11. PTDWCTT

**A/N: Alternate title for this chapter: The Treacherous Quinn.**

* * *

Quinn stirred in her sleep, her body unused to the empty, cold space next to her. Whenever Santana took the night shift at the bar, she slept a little less, worried a little more.

But then fingertips skimmed her collarbone, lips ghosted over her face and down her neck to suck on her pulse point.

"Quinn," Santana whispered her name the way she liked it, in her low, husky, contralto voice.

Lips pressed down against hers and she smiled into the kiss.

"Santana," she murmured back, hands reaching out to return the affection. Her girl was back and she wanted to show Santana just how much she had missed her.

"Quinn!"

Okay, that was not how Santana sounded when she was aroused. Why was Santana not sounding aroused?

"QUINN!"

Her eyes popped open at the yell and widened in horror when she saw that her very own hand was groping Rachel's right breast.

"Oh my gosh."

She snatched her hand away and scuttled back, heat rising to her face in embarrassment.

"Well, I never..." Rachel stammered, equally red in the face and looking if possible, even more uncomfortable than Quinn was feeling.

"I'm so sorry!" Quinn blurted out, covering her face in mortification, "I.. It.. A dream," she explained eloquently with helpful, flailing hands.

"Yeah, I figured that when I walked in and you were all over your...well.. that," Rachel grimaced and pointed to the innocuous-looking bolster lying by Quinn's side. She managed to keep her disgust to the minimum although the same couldn't be said with regards to her amusement, "And any doubts I had were shattered when you started moaning Santana's name like that," she started demonstrating, making strange and alien-like noises that Quinn was sure she didn't make.

"I don't sound like.. Stop that, would you?" Quinn snapped when the galactic sounds continued. She pulled the bolster close toward her for comfort then realized it was the cause of her current predicament. At which, she gave her temporary bed companion a nasty look and gingerly pushed it to the side, "I can't believe this."

"Me neither," Rachel shuddered before suddenly perking up, "Oh my gosh, wait till Santana hears about this!" She clapped excitedly.

"NO! We must NEVER talk about this, like ever!"

Rachel's face immediately fell, "Not even to Santana? But her reaction would be priceless! It's what I need to snap an ugly, shocked photo of her!"

"No Rachel! Definitely not to Santana! Swear it! Promise!"

Yes, she was that desperate to plead with Rachel Berry.

"But..."

And desperate enough to sell her girlfriend out.

"What kind of ugly, shocked photo do you want? I'll get it for you."

She didn't even want to know why Rachel would want such a photo, or what sort of game Santana had even been playing with her roommates. She just wanted this incident to be swept under the rug and buried ten feet underground, never to be mentioned or heard again. Her grabbing Rachel's breast NEVER happened.

"Really? You would do that?" Rachel's face lit up with hope and happiness.

Okay, on second thoughts, Quinn did want to know the reason for this absurdity she had been forced to partake in. She squinted at Rachel suspiciously then crossed her arms over her chest, "Hang on. Why would you want an ugly, shocked photo of my girl in the first place?"

"So I won't have to clean the bathroom! Again!"

She contemplated for a while but came up empty, "I fail to see the link."

"Well you see. Every week, Kurt, Santana and I have a.. How should I term it?" Rachel's lips pursed in thought as she searched for the right word, "- well competition if you may. This month's theme is ugliest shocked photo. Whoever loses will have to clean the bathroom for the week!

"Okay -"

"If I lose as I will be bound to lose, I will have to clean the toilet for the fourth week running!" Rachel wrung her hands in agitation and distress, "If that happens, I will break Kurt's record for when he lost three consecutive times during the naked month and that was only because -"

"What naked month?!" Quinn interjected, horrified to know that there were others who may have naked pictures of her girlfriend. As if the sex tape that Santana had circulating on the Internet wasn't bad enough.

"How naked was she? Have you deleted them from your phone? Let me see!" She demanded aggressively, stretching her hand out so Rachel could hand her phone over for inspection.

"Oh no, no, no," the shorter girl shook her head anxiously, knowing what Quinn was thinking, "It's not what you think. There are rules. You can't for example barge into the bathroom when someone is bathing! Bathrooms are off limits! It has to be fair game."

"Hang on a minute," Quinn held up a hand, "Wouldn't Santana lose this round? She's practically naked all the time."

Rachel giggled, "That was what I thought when I chose the theme for the month but Kurt shuns women skin like the plague. And Santana?" She scowled and flushed at a memory, "Let's just say she can be a PI if ever there's a day she chooses to."

Satisfied with the answer and finding nothing to worry about, Quinn relaxed in relief, "Okay, so let me see if I've gotten this right. Each of you must try to snap a shot of the other two at their most unflattering, unglamorous moment and if you succeed, you win?"

Rachel nodded with enthusiasm.

"But who's the judge?"

"Well we have a Facebook page and the members will vote."

"You have a Facebook page for this childish competition you have going on?" Quinn asked, flabbergasted, "Why have I never seen any of the photos?"

"That's because it's opened to members only."

"Who are the members?"

"Why, they're Santana, Kurt and myself of course!" Rachel answered as if Quinn were asking a stupid question.

The blonde rolled her eyes, "You could have just said you three were the judges!"

"But that would make this competition sound unofficial," Rachel argued fervently.

"That's because it IS unofficial, Rachel," Quinn sighed, "But anyway, back to this weird game you guys have on -"

"PTDWCTT is not just a game Quinn," Rachel said rather haughtily as she bristled at the way her friend seemed to be slighting their custom, "It's a respected tradition from where we originated from."

"Which is where I came from too - Lima, Ohio? And what the hell is PTWDCG.. what was it again?"

How on earth had she woken up to this? It was like she was living on a different planet.

"PTDWCTT!" Rachel emphasised, "Photo-to-decide-who-cleans-the-toilet. So, how's it going to be? Are you going to lend me a helping hand or am I going to have to tell Santana about-"

"I'll help you!" Quinn interrupted before Rachel could bring up the unmentionable incident. Pink was already spreading across her cheeks.

"Wonderful! I'm glad we have ourselves a deal!" Rachel nodded once then offered her hand for a shake.

How did Rachel Berry manage to manipulate her into this, Quinn thought as she reluctantly shook the hand proffered. She was The Quinn Fabray! This was embarrassing! It was unbecoming! But she supposed if one lived with Satan for over 7 months, one, even Rachel Berry, would be bound to pick up a few devious tricks from the devil herself.

"And quick wash up! We're supposed to meet Santana for breakfast! That was what I came in for!"

* * *

"So do you remember the rules?" Rachel whispered just before they entered the small eatery two streets away from the loft.

"Yes, yes," Quinn nodded grumpily, swatting Rachel from away her face. Sometimes, that girl really had no concept of personal space, "No videos because that's cheating and violating the essence of photography. No sleeping and bathroom photos because that violates privacy and is unethical. Only phone cameras allowed for which no reason was stated," she chanted dully from her memory.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and turned to Rachel with a frown, "How do you even know if Santana and Kurt are abiding by these rules, especially Santana! Maybe that's why you've been losing big time," She declared with suspicion and pride, "I mean have you met my girlfriend?"

Rachel waved off her concern and started walking again, "We've signed the terms in blood. It's all written in our roommate contract."

She stated it in such a matter-of-factly tone that Quinn almost missed it. One would think that contracts were signed in blood all the time. But when the information sank in, the blonde did a double take, "You guys did.. Say what again? Like real blood?!" She shrieked, only for Rachel to hush her quickly.

"Yeah. It's not that painful," Rachel sent her a pitying look that Quinn wanted to punch off her face. Although she hadn't been a skank for a long time, the sort of thing she had learned when she had been a member never really disappeared for good. Of course, it didn't help that her girlfriend sometimes displayed violent tendencies too, "We just prick our fingers and sign it over the paper."

Rachel must have mistaken Quinn's disgusted look for confusion because in a disturbingly excited voice, she then proceeded to suggest a demonstration, "I know it's a bit unorthodox but if you have a needle and a piece of paper on hand, I can show you -"

"That wouldn't be necessary, Berry. In fact, I wouldn't suggest you do it again. It's extremely unhygienic and I absolutely prohibit you from forcing my girlfriend to do something like that again."

She would be sure to have a talk with said girlfriend about this issue. No way was Santana losing blood or contracting some sort of disease over such a trivial matter.

"I'll have you know that there was no force required. It was consensual on all -"

"HEY Q! HOBBIT!"

Santana's voice sounded from behind them and they turned as one to meet her.

"Hey baby," the brunette grinned and greeted Quinn with a sweet kiss when she reached her, "You look hot."

Quinn stared down at her attire in confusion, "I'm just wearing shorts and a t-shirt."

"Not that kind of hot babe. You look hot and bothered," she turned to Rachel with accusing eyes, "What have you done hobbit?"

"Nothing!" Rachel said with her hands on her hips, completely affronted.

"Then why does my girl look hot and bothered?"

Ridiculously touched by Santana's protectiveness, Quinn decided to step in and save Rachel, "She really did nothing, babe."

"Then what's wrong?" Santana frowned as she took the blonde's hand in hers.

"Nothing is wrong," Quinn laughed as she tugged them both into the coffee shop, "You're thinking too much. Now come on, I can smell the bacon from out here and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out for."

"Good! Because I'm fucking hungry," she moaned obscenely then blinked when Quinn shoved her phone in front of her and snapped a photo.

"What was that for?"

"Nothing baby. I just missed you," Quinn batted her lashes and leaned forward to steal a kiss for the purpose of distraction.

She hoped she wouldn't regret this deal.

Getting an ugly photo of Santana was going to be an uphill task. Rachel was an idiot for even suggesting the theme.

* * *

"Santana, I'm pregnant."

"That's nice," the brunette mumbled sleepily into her pillow. She had just taken her shower and was already comfortably tucked into bed, half-asleep under the covers.

3. 2. 1.

"WHAT?"

And there she was. SNAP.

"Get that phone out of my face. What did you say?" Santana asked in shock.

"Sorry," Quinn grinned sheepishly, "I just wanted to see if you were awake. I'm not pregnant."

"Fuck. Are you crazy?" Santana slapped Quinn's arm half-heartedly, wiling her beating heart to calm down, "Don't do that again," she chided and let herself fall back onto the bed and into dreamland.

* * *

"That's all we have?"

"What do you mean that's all we have? Have you not seen how many photos I took from down up? Everyone knows the worst photos are all taken from down up."

"But.. But," Rachel stammered as she swiped through the photos, "She doesn't looked shocked in them. She doesn't even look half-bad."

"Well," Quinn peered over Rachel's shoulders so that she too could have a look. She wouldn't want to miss out on any opportunity to ogle at her girlfriend, "I tried my best and.. hey, how about this one?"

"Actually no, she looks kinda hot in that one," she answered before Rachel could reply, "What even possessed you to come up with that theme."

"There has to be something! No one is picture perfect. Are you even trying?"

"Of course I'm trying! You know I am. Within the span of three hours, I've spilled orange juice on her, stepped on her toes, threw out all her skittles, told her I was pregnant –"

"You told her you were pregnant?!" Rachel spun around, in shock and in awe.

"Yes, I was getting desperate."

"What did she say?" she leaned forward, chins in her palm, ever ready for gossip.

Quinn eyed her dryly, "That's not the point."

Disappointed, Rachel pulled back, "Fine. We need a plan. We need a moment of ingenuity. We need –"

Just so she could shut Rachel up, Quinn decided to leak out one of Santana's not-so-big secrets, "I do have something but you must swear never to repeat it. Ever! Do you understand that?"

Rachel nodded and mimed zipping her lips. She sure hoped she would not regret this.

For the purpose of creating drama, Quinn drew in a deep breath then whispered everything quickly in a single breath, "Santana doesn't sleep pretty. Sometimes, she opens her mouth when she sleeps or if she's very tired, she'll even snore a little."

"But bedrooms are off-limits! Remember?"

"In that case, we're going to have to do the next best."

"And what's that?"

"Catching her after she has just woken up."

* * *

"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Quinn."

"Neither am I," Quinn retorted, "But guess whose grand plan this was in the first place. I'm telling you, this is mission impossible."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it."

"Then why even voice what you just did?"

"I just wanted to share my concerns. It's a form of catharsis," Rachel explained, looking slightly hurt, "Shall I go set off the alarm now?"

"No, I'll do that and you stay here. It's your fight after all."

There was some grumbling but eventually, it was decided that Quinn would set off the alarm while Rachel would lie in wait for the sleeping dragon.

After a few confusing and redundant hand signals on Rachel's part, Quinn flicked on the lighter and held it up to the fire alarm. In a few seconds, the alarm was blaring loudly.

She quickly climbed down from the chair and padded over to where Rachel was crouched down outside Santana's room.

One thousand. Two thousand. Three thousand. Ten. Thirty.

Her head started ringing and she swore her eyes had already crossed over at the ten second mark. That was how loud the blaring was and still, no Santana.

"WHAT'S TAKING HER SO LONG? SHE WOULD BE FRIED TO A CRISP BY NOW," Rachel yelled over the loud ringing, "SHE'S IN THERE RIGHT?"

"YES," Quinn nodded but peeked into the room anyway, "SHE CAN BE A HEAVY SLEEPER."

Sure enough, she spotted a Santana-looking lump beneath the covers. The slow, steady rise and fall of the blanket was proof enough that her girl was still sleeping soundly.

"HOW IS SHE STILL SLEEPING ABOVE THIS RACKET?" Rachel asked, astounded, her hands slapped over her ears, "OH MY GOD. I'M GOING TO TURN THE ALARM OFF. IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!"

"NOW YOU KNOW HOW WE FEEL EVERY MORNING!" Quinn replied shortly and walked away before Rachel could process the insult.

After several heartbeats, Rachel's indignant "HEY!" sounded behind her.

* * *

"Did you sleep well?" Quinn asked, pecking Santana on the lips before she slipped under the covers to join the brunette.

"Hmmm," Santana hummed, leaning forward to steal another kiss. Her voice was thick and sleepy, "I had a dream."

She threw an arm around Quinn's waist and snuggled close. A little too close.

"What's wrong sweetie?" Quinn pulled away, took Santana's face in her hands.

"There was a fire. I thought I'd lost you," she buried her face against Quinn's shoulder, rubbed her cheek there, "Don't leave me."

Quinn's chest warmed, her heart trembled, "Did you save me?"

Santana looked up with a smug smile, pushed herself up to give Quinn a long, sizzling kiss, "Of course I did. I'll always save you."

And okay, she was a terrible person. She was a horrid girlfriend. She couldn't do this anymore.

With her head still spinning form the kiss, Quinn pulled away for the second time and nervously pressed her lips together.

"Santana, I have something to tell you."

"Okay," her girlfriend nuzzled her neck, working her way down to her collarbone, her mouth hot and wet on her skin.

"I…Oh God.. I can't think when you're… I groped Rachel's breast," she blurted out.

The hand that been cupping her own breasts not a second ago immediately withdrew when Santana scrambled back and up.

"What?"

"I groped Rachel's breast," she repeated, her face hot and flushed.

The disgusted look that overtook Santana's face was comical in every sense of the word, "Why would you do that?" she practically spat.

"I was sleeping and I had.." Oh God. Santana would have a field day with this one, "I had a dream and she came in to wake me up and I thought she was you and I just.. it just happened," she explained in a rush, completely mortified by the confession.

"You had a dream? About me?" Santana asked deliriously happy, if the huge grin on her face was anything to go by.

"What kind of dream?" she teased.

"It's the.. the kind where.. Oh shut up! You know what kind it was," Quinn snapped when Santana started laughing with delight, "But that's not all!"

"I didn't want Rachel to tell on me, so I.. I agreed to help her get photos of you."

The laughter stopped and gave way to a frown, "What kind of photos?"

"The one you have every week to decide who cleans the toilet," Quinn admitted meekly.

"Oh no, you didn't!"

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I'll delete them all!"

"So that's why you were being so weird today," her eyes narrowed at the realisation, "I'm going to kill Rachel!"

"I'm so sorry! I won't do that ever again."

Santana slapped her on the thigh and scowled, "You better not."

Then in a radical change in her mood, she grinned like a Cheshire cat and slapped her palm over one of Quinn's breasts, causing the blonde to yelp in shock.

"So before we kill Rachel, do you want to show me how you groped her boobies?"

She squeezed and leaned in until their bodies bumped.

"Or maybe you could show me what exactly went down in that dream? I'm so very curious," she all but purred, then squealed and fell back when Quinn stuck her fingers up her ribs.

"Stop it! That's no fair," she wriggled and flailed when Quinn continued moving her fingers up her ticklish spot.

"But I thought you wanted to know what went down in my dream?" Quinn husked, using the opportunity to straddle her girlfriend.

She gripped Santana's bucking hips and held them down, "Only this time, it wouldn't just be my dream," she said them lunged down.

And all was right in the world of Quinn and Santana again.

* * *

**If anyone's interested, I've just started a new story - 'To Love and Protect'. It's very different from this one and will be a whole lot darker. It's also going to my first multi-chapter so wish me luck!**


	12. Cat of the Castle

**A/N: Thanks to silent12reader and the guest who suggested a chapter on pets. This chapter is dedicated to them. silent12reader, I hope it meets your expectations, especially because I think it turned out quite differently from what you wanted. Nevertheless, I had fun with this one :D  
**

**Thanks for the follows, reviews, favourites!**

**And again, if anyone is interested in more Quinntana (with a dash of cop!Santana) , please check out my new fic, _To Love and Protect_. (Yes, I'm doing some shameless advertising here).**

* * *

Santana could not wait to fall face-first into her own bed and get her cuddle on with Quinn. If her blonde was still in bed that is.

Taking the steps two at a time, she glanced at her watch.

6.30am.

If she cleaned up fast enough, she would be able to get at least half an hour of cuddle time with her darling girlfriend, who always got up promptly at eight. Like who would even do that? Who in the right mind would wake up at eight in the morning while on summer vacation? Her girlfriend apparently, she thought fondly with a roll of her eyes.

It was something she could never comprehend, the same way she could not understand how Quinn could read textbooks for kicks. Not just scan through them, but actually read them page by page, word by word, from cover to cover. Oh well, she thought as she turned the key and opened the door, if she could, she would be the one in the Ivy League school.

Not wanting to wake anyone up, specifically Quinn, she closed the door as gently as she could, then let out a piercing scream when she felt something dart past her leg.

"Rat! RAT!" She shrieked, hopping from one leg to the other, while anxiously scanning the ugly concrete floor for signs of the creature from hell.

"Where's the robber? Where is he? Let me at him!" Kurt stumbled out, wild-eyed, a baseball bat poised over his shoulder. His hair was sticking up on all ends, and he was garbed in his striped pyjamas.

It took a few seconds for his sleep-deprived brain to catch up but when it did, he let out an even louder screech, dropped his steel bat with a loud clang and sprung for the nearest chair.

"WHERE IS THE RAT? WHERE IS IT? RACHELLLLLLLLL!"

"What on earth is going on?"

Quinn was the next to emerge from her cave. Though her hair was still a little mussed up, her eyes were bright and clear.

"Kurt, why are you on the chair? And Santana, what are –"

She spotted the source of the racket. And went dewy-eyed.

"Awwww," she cooed, went over to the trembling grey ball of fur by the couch, and spoke in what Santana always thought was her scary voice, "Hello darling. Aren't you a cute little thing? Don't be scared. See, there's nothing to be scared of."

With her encouragement, the not-rat sniffed at her fingers and stuck out its little tongue to start licking.

"Oh it's a kitten," Kurt giggled sheepishly to himself and climbed down from the chair, "What's it doing here?"

Always last to the party, Rachel stepped out of her room with a big yawn, "What's going on?" she asked blearily.

Having recovered from her shock, Santana sauntered over to take a good look at the kitten now mewing happily in Quinn's arms.

"Oh no no no no no," she shook her head furiously, "You have got to be fucking kidding me. Which of you two idiots brought it back? We've been through this before. No pets in the loft!"

"Don't look at me," Kurt raised his hands and blinked innocently.

They both turned to a guilty-looking Rachel.

"Rachel," Kurt started, his hands over his hips.

It didn't even take two seconds for Rachel to crack.

"Oh all right all right. I confess!" she blurted out, eyes scrunched shut in fear, "But I found Kitty all alone in the ditch. And it was wet and scared and all alone and I felt sorry for it and I –"

"We don't want to hear your sob story. Just take it back."

Both Quinn and Rachel turned to stare at Santana with identical horror-struck faces, "To that awful ditch I found her in? That would be inhuman!"

"Of course not that ditch," she couldn't help but squirm at the judgemental scrutiny Quinn was showering her with, "Bring it to an adoption centre or something."

"But we could take care of her!" Rachel protested.

"You don't even know a thing about cats! You're vegan!"

"That's irrelevant!"

"Oh yeah? So you know how to take care of a cat?" Santana challenged, crossing her arms over her chest and arching her brow.

"Well… I.. no," Rachel admitted honestly, "But you do! Britt always mentioned how good you were with Charity and Lord Tubbington."

"Okay. No. Listen up hobbit. I've been around cats and you don't want to be keeping a cat here. They scratch, they barf, they shed, they're temperamental. They steal your shoes and rip your clothes if they're unhappy. Do you want me to go on?"

"That.. But that sounds just like you Santana," Rachel reasoned, looking nervously to Kurt and Quinn for support.

When they laughed, Santana glared at them. Unperturbed, Quinn chuckled and shot her an apologetic look, "I hate to say it babe, but it's true."

"I don't shed!" she stated indignantly.

Kurt snorted, "I beg to differ."

When Santana glowered at him, he tilted up his chin to her, "What? It's true! Your hair always clogs up the shower drain."

"And how do you know it's mine and not yours or Rachel?"

"Please. I can tell my black from brown."

Unable to come up with a comeback, Santana ploughed on, determined to be undeterred, "The point is: cat equals chore. Kurt," she turned to her most likely supporter, "Do you really want your suits to be covered in fur? Or find your scarves being used as chase balls, your futon being used as a scratch post?"

He wrinkled up his nose in distaste, "No. Sorry Rachel but I'm with Santana on this one."

As if hearing him, the kitten gave a pitiful mew and bopped its head against Quinn's chest. _Don't let them give me away_, it seemed to say.

Santana turned to Rachel with a smug smile, "Sorry Berry. It's two versus one. You're going to have to find it a new home."

"What? No! But –"

"Don't I get a vote?" Quinn interrupted, scratching absently behind the kitten's ears.

Kurt's shoulders immediately slumped. He already knew how this would end.

"Ah.." Santana glanced at Kurt for help but he looked away.

"Don't look at me. This is not a battle I want to be part of. In fact, I don't even want to watch. If and when you end up keeping this thing, you better keep him away from my stuff," he huffed as he eyed the furry ball with disdain, then turned his nose up in the air and strutted back to his room.

"Coward," Santana muttered under her breath.

"So do I get a vote?"

"Babe –"

"I mean I'm contributing to the rental too. It seems fair that I get a vote. Right?"

"You're not playing fair," Santana mumbled half-heartedly, her fingers twitching by her side, "You're not even going to be here by next month."

"Sure I will. At least during the weekends. Unless you don't want me here?"

"Of course I want you around babe. Bu –"

"Perfect!" Quinn beamed, "Then I'm voting yes. That makes two versus two. So what happens when there's a draw?"

When nobody answered, Quinn took it on herself to decide.

"I say to make things fair, we keep this kitten for two weeks then vote again."

"Agreed!" Rachel grinned, then bent down so she could look kitty in the eye, "Welcome to the loft Kitty!"

In his room, Kurt sighed and shook his head sadly, "I knew it."

He would have to be sure to keep his room safe from cat intrusion. Santana always was useless when it came to Quinn.

* * *

So it was that the first chore of the day was to rename their new, temporary pet. And it seemed that it carried potential to start World War III.

"We're not naming her Kitty! Are you serious?" Santana scoffed. (Yes they found out that the little kitten was actually a girl. In Kurt's opinion, there was already too much oestrogen under one roof.)

"What's wrong with Kitty?" Rachel shot back, "That's what she is, isn't she?"

"Then let's change your name to Beak-nose, Yentl, or how about Fucking Annoying? They're all a lot more appropriate than your current name."

Rachel clucked angrily, then leaned down to cover Kitty's ears with her hands, "Watch your language Santana. She's just a baby!"

"Oh. My. God. Someone please add Fucking Crazy to the list."

"Santana!" Rachel scolded again.

"She's an animal for Christ's sake!" she threw out her arms in annoyance, "I say we name her Puss," she sniggered, tugging lightly at Kitty's whiskers. The animal meowed resentfully and batted her hand away with its tiny paws.

"Absolutely not."

This time it was Quinn who had spoken. And knowing Santana, she quickly added, "And we're not naming her Pussy either."

The disappointed fall of Santana's shoulders told her she had been right.

"How about Tabitha?"

Both Rachel and Santana snorted.

"And what? Call her tabby for short?"

Quinn blushed at how she had been found out.

"It's not even a tabby cat. And if you say Gray-ie," Santana directly fiercely to Rachel when the latter started to open her mouth, "I will smack you until you cry."

"What?" she snapped rudely at the feline that had crawled from Rachel's lap to hers.

It meowed at her once, circled on her lap and without seeking permission, plonked its butt down on her lap and started to wash itself.

"Awww, she likes you," Quinn cooed again in her scary voice; the voice she saved for babies and cute things.

That to Santana was always, always a sign of danger. Whenever Quinn used her scary voice, it meant she had to be nice to that object of affection, and everyone knew how she didn't like to play nice.

Deciding the easiest cause of action was for her to ignore the silly cat, Santana blew out a puff of air impatiently, "So what are we going to call her? Where's Kurt even at? He's supposed to be at this meeting!"

"No, I'm not! I don't want the cat. I don't need to spend time thinking of a name I'll never be calling," he called out from inside his room.

And wasn't that rude! She at least made time for this activity even if she didn't want to keep the thing. There there, she thought as she looked down at the kitten cleaning itself, we'll find a name for you.

"How about Fluffy?"

"_You've_ fluff in your brain if you're serious about giving her such a wimpy name as that," she threw Rachel a dirty look.

"How about you stop shooting down everything I say for once and put more effort into choosing a name," Rachel retorted, tired of being put down over and over again.

The kitten chose the time to give a loud, protesting wail.

Santana smirked and patted her on the head, "Good girl. You do not have fluff for brains," she commended.

"How about Skittles?" Quinn suddenly piped up.

"Hmmm," Santana cocked her head and looked down at the little feline, "That's actually quite a nice name."

"It's a name of a sweet!"

Santana turned to stare at Rachel blandly for a few seconds.

"And what's your point?"

"She's a cat! You don't want to name her after food!" Rachel spluttered uselessly even as Santana picked up the cat and moved off from the couch.

"It's settled then. Come on Skittles. We'll show you off to Uncle Kurt. I'll even give you permission to scratch his new jacket."

"I heard that!"

* * *

Santana was sleeping soundly, dreaming of being bullied by cats and girlfriends when she felt a tickle in her nose. She scrunched up her face, rolled to the other side to avoid the tickle when she felt it again. She groaned and lifted a finger to scratch at the itchy spot when she felt fur.

Wait. What?

Her eyes sprung open and she found herself staring directly into huge, amber ones.

"Meow," Skittles greeted cheerfully and batted her cheek with its paw.

"Jesus!" Santana scrambled back in shock and tumbled off the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"Ow," she whined, rubbing at her sore bum even as she glared at the kitten.

She pointed an accusing finger at her new pet and wagged, "That was not cool. Lesson number one in the loft: You do NOT wake Santana Lopez in that way. That was rude and mean and uncalled for. Do you understand you little shit?"

Skittles stared at her finger, blinked and licked it.

She pulled back her hand in disgust and wiped it on her sleep shorts, "Eeew okay. No. Rule two: You do not lick Santana Lopez. If you need to lick someone or something, you lick Rachel Berry or Quinn Fabray or Kurt Hummel. Okay you know what? That's just going to confuse the hell out of you. You just lick Rachel okay? That's the short one."

She picked up one of the photo frames on the bedside table and stabbed her finger at Rachel's face, "This is Rachel. Lick her."

She shifted the finger to Quinn's face, "This is Quinn, my girlfriend. Do not lick her because I have to kiss her and I don't want to know where her lips have been or what I'm exchanging saliva with."

When it appeared that Skittles had received the message, she nodded and placed the photo back on the table, then scooped Skittles up from the bed.

"Jesus you're light aren't you?" she bounced the kitten up and down under her arm, "Do you even weigh two pounds? I'll have you know Lord Tubbington was already five pounds at your age. Come on, we'll find you something to eat."

With Skittles still tucked under her arm, she walked out to the living room and headed for the kitchen, "Where is everybody? Probably out buying stuff for you. Troublesome little cunt you are. We probably have to get you sprayed eventually too."

Skittles started whining and wriggling under her arm.

"Yeah, I know right? I probably wouldn't like that too. Sucks to be you then," Santana chatted on conversationally as she placed the kitten down.

"Now let's see what we've got," she started opening the cupboards and rifling through their canned food. On the ground, Skittles began weaving and twining itself through Santana's legs.

"Well isn't that a pity," Santana said as she closed the cupboards, "It looks like we've nothing for you. Nothing healthy that is. Looks like you have to wait till the tribe gets back."

Unhappy, Skittles sent up a screeching meow and scowled at her.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not the one who brought you back without considering your stomach. Besides a few hours wouldn't hurt."

Changing tactics, Skittles started purring and curling itself around and through her legs.

"Bribery isn't going to work. Now, stop that!" she ordered sternly then sighed when the cat shone pitiful eyes at her.

"We should have named you after Quinn," Santana grumbled as she reopened the cupboard and pulled out a can of tuna, "You two don't play fair."

"Now this is between us okay? I'm just going to give you a little, teeny bit. You can't tell the others. Tuna isn't good for you. Deal?"

When Skittles slapped a paw down on her outstretched fist, she got out a dish and tipped a little bit of tuna into it. Skittles pounced on it and practically inhaled the food. After which, she looked expectantly at Santana.

"No more. Or you'll be an overweight lard tard like Tubbington. You want to remain pretty don't you?"

Skittles stared at her, seemed to consider her point then sat down and started washing.

"Good girl," she praised and gave Skittles a little scratch behind the ears for making the right decision.

* * *

"Look what we got!" Rachel announced loudly from the doorway.

"A nose job?" Santana answered snarkily from when she was sprawled on the couch, reading, with Skittles napping on her butt.

Used to the insults by now, Rachel ignored the comment and set the paper bags on the coffee table. After months of living with Santana, she had come to learn that Santana was all bark but no bite. Well, most of the time at least.

"Awww you've gotten acquainted," Quinn's scary voice made its appearance once again and maybe, Santana should tell her about this voice that she had because its frequent occurrence was starting to creep her out.

She blinked when a flash went off in her face.

"Babe!" she protested and pushed the camera away.

"But you two look so cute together."

"What are you talking about? I'm always cute. Now give me a kiss."

When Quinn leaned down to comply, her two housemates rolled their eyes at the blatant affection.

Satisfied, Santana turned her attention to Kurt, "Why were you even with them? I thought you didn't want anything to do with the cat?"

"Oh but they were going shopping! And look what I got!" he said excitedly, pulling out half a dozen dresses, a duck hat, a woolly cap, and a queen bee costume from his bags, "There were so many things to choose from and the best thing? They were all on sale!"

"I've always wanted to dress a baby girl!" he cooed, looking at Skittles with somewhat dreamy (read crazed) eyes.

"Oh my God. Are you insane? This is a cat! See! This is why we cannot keep pets because you guys are absolutely crazy!"

She swatted a disgruntled Skittles off her butt and sat up.

"This is not a toy. It's an animal."

"Oh come on Santana. We just all show our love in different ways," Rachel argued then pulled out a doll from her own bag.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a cat!" she trilled as she held it out to Skittles for inspection, "It reminded me of her. So I thought they could make friends."

They watched as Skittles sniffed the toy. Her amber eyes narrowed with suspicion before she shifted, arched her back and hissed.

"Sure and that," Santana smirked, "Is pure love. At least I didn't have to pay for any of that shit."

"Ah about that babe," Quinn said with shifty eyes.

"Oh no you didn't," Santana jolted up.

"We wanted to use Rachel's card but there was a discount for the card you're using and you're the only with it."

"Quinn!"

"We'll pay you back!"

"You better! Come on Skittles," she rose haughtily, snapped her fingers and had the kitten falling happily into step.

"Skittles! Where are you going? I'll have you know we bought all these for you!" Rachel screeched behind their backs.

* * *

Quinn and Santana were currently making out on the sofa. The blonde was settled completely on her girlfriend's lap, her body pressed snugly against Santana's compact one.

They currently had the apartment to themselves and were making full use of the rare privacy they had.

Santana's hands were already under Quinn's t-shirt and roaming up and down her bare back. Quinn on the other hand, had been a faster worker and had taken no time to undo all the buttons on Santana's shirt. She was currently palming her girlfriend's breasts over the lacy bra while sucking on her pulse point.

"I love kissing you," Quinn muttered huskily as she trailed kisses up Santana's neck and started devouring her mouth.

Santana's mouth was a fever against her and as they nipped, tugged and bit, she felt the familiar ache course through her body, the throb in her lower abdomen that told her she wanted, no needed more.

Impatient now, she drew back from the kiss to tug her t-shirt off and over her head. She wanted to feel Santana's skin against hers, wanted their bodies as close as possible.

Once the obstructing material was gone, she attacked her girlfriend again, locking her arms around tanned neck, pressing her body to hers.

"Off," she paused just long enough to shove Santana's shirt off her shoulders before diving back into the kiss.

More tongue, more speed, more aggression, more passion. More everything and still it was not enough.

Eager to change that, she slid her hand down to pull at Santana's shorts and grinned when her girlfriend bucked.

"Someone's eager," she teased, stopping for a moment to trace her finger over the slope of Santana's breasts.

"Shut up and just kiss me," she all but growled as she pulled Quinn back to her.

And just when the party was really about to get started, Skittles decided to make her guest appearance.

Meow, she said and bumped her head against Quinn's thigh.

"Oh god, no. Shoo," Quinn managed to gasp out, desperate for the fingers sliding up her inner thigh to go just a little higher.

_Meow._

"You must be fucking kidding me."

It was Santana's turn to be distracted when a furry head started rubbing up and down the side of her stomach.

"Quinn," she whined.

"Ignore her."

She slipped her hand under the band of Santana's shorts but ripped it out when she felt something wet lick her abs.

If not for the fact that Santana had been clinging on so tightly to her, she would have fallen back and onto the coffee table.

Unable to tolerate anymore distractions, Santana broke away and turned to glare at Skittles, "Rule number three: You do NOT disrupt Santana and Quinn when they are having their sexy times. Now scat!"

"Go! Shoo! Away with you!" she made shooing motions with her hands to emphasise her point but Skittles merely continued to sit and stare at them with her large, amber eyes.

"Ignore her," Quinn said again as she took Santana's face in between her hands. She still had an itch to scratch.

"But baby, I can't have sex with her looking at us like that."

"She's. A. Cat." Quinn tried reasoning with her girlfriend, peppering kisses on her face between each word.

"Yeah, you know. You're right and oooh… Yeah, right there babe," Santana hummed when Quinn started sucking on a sensitive spot.

Her hands started to inch down again when… _MEOW._

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

Needless to say, that was the end of their sexy times.

* * *

"You're not sleeping here," Quinn told Skittles with stern eyes.

"I haven't been laid in days thanks to you. Go away."

"Stop playing dumb," she added when the cat merely swished its tail, "I know you understand me."

"Go play with Kitty," she said when Skittles still refused to budge.

(Kitty was the stuffed toy Rachel had bought and Skittles had come to tolerate. She had even come across the kitten playing with the toy.)

"Please?" she tried and was surprised when the feline sniffed prettily then turned to walk out of the room she shared with Santana.

Sometimes, that cat really scared her. Perhaps they should have named her Spookie instead.

* * *

It was another tiring day at the diner and she was glad to be back.

"Hey you," Santana crouched down to pet the cat that had come to greet her when Skittles stiffened, arched, sniffing at her with a wild gleam in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Santana asked, absolutely mortified that she was being treated that way. Skittles usually saved such reactions for Rachel. That girl was sometimes a little over-affectionate, even for the cat.

"Hey babe," Quinn smiled, looking up from the couch where she was surfing the net.

She frowned when she noticed her girlfriend's despondent face, "Santana? What's the matter?"

"Skittles is hissing at me."

She looked and sure enough, she saw their cat snarling, back arched, hair on end, spitting at her sad-looking girlfriend.

How strange.

She padded over and picked the cat up, where she immediately relaxed in Quinn's arms. She took a step forward, then stopped when the hissing resumed.

"Did you step on her tail by accident?"

"No," Santana sulked, dropping her boots to the floor, "I just walked through the door. Crazy bitch."

"Maybe she's just feeling a little moody. You know how puberty is like."

"She's barely past ten weeks! What puberty? Whatever. I don't care."

Grumbling to herself, Santana shed her clothes as she stalked to the bathroom, "Who decided to let her stay anyway."

"Actually, that was me. You didn't want her at first, remember?"

"I was just trying to avoid heartbreak for when she dies," she waited a beat, "Or for when she decides to be a bitch like she is now," she pouted, still pulling a long face when she turned on the shower spray.

Once she had cleaned up, she stepped out where Skittles once again strolled up to her for a sniff. This time, she purred and started rubbing herself against Santana's legs.

"Why, have you gotten over your pissy mood now?"

Pleased, Santana bent down and started stroking her underbelly. All was well until she stretched to pick up her work clothes from the floor.

"Why are you mad again?" she asked when Skittles let out a growl and started backing away.

Quinn observed the interaction closely, then crossed over to test her hypothesis.

"Pass me your clothes babe."

The cat's hissing followed the motion.

And that was when Santana remembered the cat she had helped a customer hold while at work.

"Ah. I get it now," she said, relieved, "You're a possessive one, aren't you? Just like my Quinn."

"Well no worries Skittles, I have no intentions of replacing you. Or Quinn," she added for good measure, throwing a loving arm around the blonde's waist and pulling her close to her side.

"My two queens."

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	13. The Hunger Games

**A/N: It's been some time since I've updated this story and it's good to be working on it again. Once again, thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites I've been getting on this. It's been total fun reading your response. **

**Also, I'll be changing the status of the story to "Complete" considering they're all one-shots (with just one exception) but I will be adding chapters to it every now and then. It's just not going to be regular updates. **

**Now, for _The Hunger Games. _**

* * *

"I'm going on a diet!" Quinn announced loudly as she walked out of her shared bedroom with Santana.

"What? Why?" Santana looked up from her phone, promptly leading to her flappy bird smashing into a column and meeting a nasty death.

She had been waiting on the sofa for the past ten minutes, waiting for Quinn to get ready so they could head out for a late breakfast, or brunch as she liked to call it.

"Look at this!" Quinn burst out, lifting up the hem of her blouse to reveal a flat tummy.

"Erm…" Santana drew out the word, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. She decided that "okay" was a safe word and so went along with that.

Apparently, it was not because that made her girlfriend flare up. "What do you mean by okay? I've gained 5 pounds ever since I've moved here and it is all your fault! What are my friends going to say when I go back to Yale during the fall."

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down tiger," Santana raised her palms in defense, wondering if she should stay where she was and participate in this conversation or if she should somehow wriggle out of sight. Out of sight out of mind right?

Unfortunately, the latter was going to be very difficult to do what with Quinn standing right in front of her, hands on hips. And speaking of hips, yeah, now that Quinn mentioned it, maybe she did put on a little weight but just a little. Not that she would ever tell Quinn that. She wasn't suicidal.

Seeing no way out, Santana resigned herself to her fate and put her mind to trying to calm her girlfriend down.

"Quinn, baby. You don't need to go on a diet."

"So you can look hotter than me? The way you strove to be in high school?"

Whoa. Okay and what?

"What do you mean strove to be?" Santana scoffed, "I've always been hotter than you."

"So you're saying that I look fat now, aren't you?" Quinn complained, looking utterly upset all over again.

"What? No! I'm just saying that –" Santana paused, her eyes rolling up as she searched for her train of thought.

This conversation was taking all sorts of unexpected twists and turns and she wasn't sure she was ready for this. It was after all still only eleven.

"That's it. I'm going on a diet!"

"But baby, what about breakfast? Can you at least start after we've eaten? I mean I've –"

"Whatever happened to being a supportive girlfriend?" Quinn argued, pinning her down with a hard stare, "And who said anything about me doing this by myself? You can't possibly expect me to keep to my diet when I see you eating all the time, can you?"

"I don't eat all the time!" Santana argued, feeling terribly accused. She didn't. She just liked snacks and found herself having them once in a couple of hours. That didn't mean she ate all the time! How dare Quinn say that! But then her mind zoned in on something she had missed the first time around.

"Wait. You mean you want me to go on a diet with you?" She asked, face scrunched up in disgust and indignation.

"Of course I would like my girlfriend's support."

"Oh no. Don't use that line on me. It's not going to work."

"It's not as if you've never done it before!"

And Quinn was right. The first and last time she had gone on a diet was when she had still been a Cheerio. It was only after her sophomore year that she realised she was one of the few silly girls who had kept so rigidly to Sue's insane dietary inhibitions.

"Yeah and that one time was enough dieting for the rest of my life!"

"Oh stop exaggerating. Come on San, it'll be like old times."

"I don't want it to be like old times!"

"You're incorrigible!"

"And you're being ridiculous! You don't need to go on a diet babe. It's just 4 pounds! You'll shed it off after a few runs."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her, "Let's compromise. We'll go vegetarian."

"But I like meat!"

"And I used to like dicks," Quinn stated in an uncharactistically crude moment.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

Santana heaved out a big sigh as she went over terms and conditions in her mind.

"So, let me get this straight. It's just no meat right?"

"Yep." Quinn beamed at her, happy now that she had Santana swayed, "And no starch or carbohydrates, and no dressing if we are having salad and no salty food and no dessert, definitely no ice cream or.."

"Oh just fast already!" Santana huffed out, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"I was hoping you would say that." Quinn grinned, throwing herself forward to plant a peck on Santana's cheek, "You're the best babe!"

"No! That was not what I meant!"

But Quinn had already disappeared into the room and fuck. What had she just gotten herself into?

* * *

**Day 1**

"I'm hungry!" Santana declared that night at the dining table.

Although she was not eating, she insisted on watching Rachel and Kurt eat. Something about how if you can't consume it, smell it. It didn't seem to be working though considering how she was eyeing the food in front of her with hungry malevolence.

"Sip more water," Quinn advised from where she was calmly watching an episode of Hell's Kitchen.

"This is my fourth cup in ten minutes," Santana seethed into her mug of water.

Nevertheless, she took a huge gulp, pretending that the clear substance was actually beef stew.

By the time she headed to bed, her complaints had changed from "I'm hungry" to "I'm starving", accompanied by a lot of teeth-gnashing and snapping.

* * *

**Day 2**

Following Rachel's and Kurt's plea for some leniency (they insisted that a hungry Santana was practically courting death), Quinn had finally agreed to a vegetarian diet.

Rachel, elated to finally have some companions with regards to her vegetarian lifestyle , whipped up a "sumptuous meal" using mushrooms, tofu, eggplants, onions and some weird beans.

It hadn't tasted bad but it hadn't tasted good either. There just was nothing that could replace good, old steak.

They both farted a lot that night.

* * *

**Day 3**

Returning from her run, Santana was greeted at the door by her girlfriend, who was holding a glass of dirty-green substance in her hand.

"What's this?" Santana peered down warily at the drink held out in front of her.

"It's wheatgrass juice."

"The ones that cows munch on?"

"Yes.. well no. It's not the same kind of grass," Quinn frowned, still trying to get Santana to accept the drink, "It's good for you, especially after your run."

"Erm. You want me to drink something that cows eat?" Santana asked skeptically, scrunching up her brows in disgust. "No. Not happening."

"It's not the same type of –"

"I don't have four stomachs Quinn."

"Oh for God's sake, stop whining and just drink it! It's good for you!"

"And _how_ is this good for me?"

"Well for one, I've lost an ounce since I've started."

"You've lost an ounce?" Santana deadpanned, looking completely unimpressed.

"Yes and it's supposed to be very cleansing and detoxing." Quinn continued, undeterred.

"That sounds like an ad for a facial wash," Santana snorted out a laugh then gagged after taking a tentative sip from her drink, "What the fuck is this?"

"This is starting to sound like a broken-down record. I'm not repeating myself Santana."

"Well I'm not drinking another sip of this." Santana spluttered indignantly, trying to push the cup of wheatgrass juice back into Quinn's hands.

"Oh don't be a baby about it. Make sure you finish the drink and don't you dare pour it down the sink." Quinn said then turned on her heels to walk away before Santana could get another word in.

"Why, I never!" Santana huffed, looking down at the glass of cow food juice in her hand.

Seeing that Kurt and Rachel were out on some singing expedition with their NYADA friends, she settled on ranting to an innocent Skittles, who was happily licking her paw.

"Did you see that Skittles? Absolutely, fucking rude wasn't it?"

Skittled purred its agreement. For her kind, she was very easygoing.

Santana suddenly perked up when a thought entered her mind. "Hey you know what Skits, how about you try a sip. Hey! Where are you going? Skittles! Skittles!"

And yes, Skittles was easygoing for a feline but still, she wasn't stupid.

* * *

**Day 4**

Four days and Quinn was still going strong. (Santana was dying.) Unfortunately, despite their fast, Quinn's weight still remained at a "hefty" 120 pounds.

"This sucks." Santana grumbled as she stabbed at her bowl of salad with her fork. She was getting really tired of seeing greens all the time. What she would kill for just a little piece of meat. Just one tiny piece.

By her feet, Skittles was happily tucking into her dish of tuna.

"You don't have to gloat!" Santana gave the cat a soft kick when it slurped and meowed with satisfaction at its meal.

Slightly disgruntled at its mistreatment, Skittles glared at her and bared its teeth, before stalking off to wash itself, leaving an empty dish in its wake.

"Santana!" Quinn chided, munching on her greens. "Don't antagonize her."

"_You're_ antagonizing me." She muttered under her breath, stabbing again at a lettuce leaf with unnecessary force.

"What?"

"Nothing," she sighed before returning to her blades of grass.

Never before had she felt so tempted to share Skittle's meal. She wondered if her cat would mind.

* * *

**Day 5**

When Kurt baked brownies, she almost punched him in the face.

* * *

**Day 6**

"Santana!" Quinn ran to her happily with a huge smile on her face and she sent a quick thank you up to the lord.

It looked like her prayers had finally been answered and Quinn had lost the 5 pounds she had gained.

"Look!" Quinn said as she patted her own face, "I've got no make-up on, but there's a bit of a glow to my skin, no? I think it's the vegetarian diet. Maybe I should be a full-time vegetarian."

Santana wanted to break down and cry.

* * *

**Day 7**

"Oh my gosh! Santana! You'll not believe this!" Quinn's laugh chimed from the bathroom.

After the previous day's disappointment, Santana remained sprawled out on her bed.

"Santana!"

"What!" She snapped back, not in the mood for any laughs whatsoever. All she wanted was beef, chicken, lamb, fish, anything.

A few seconds later, Quinn appeared at the doorway (it was more like a curtainway really), cradling the weighing machine.

Now, _that_ got Santana's attention. She jolted up and leaned forward, eyes glimmering with hope. "You lost the 5 pounds?"

"No," Quinn laughed again and Santana's face fell, "I never gained it! It turned out the weighing machine was set 5 pounds more for some reason."

"Wait. What?"

"I know right!" Quinn squealed with glee. "I'm not fat after all."

"No, no, no. There's no I know right." Santana half-screamed, eyes wild, her hands clutching at her scalp, "Are you saying that all that dieting was for nothing?"

Slightly perturbed by her girlfriend's reaction, Quinn took a step back, "Well I wouldn't say it was for naught. I mean my skin has cleared up don't you think? And my bowel system…"

Santana let out a muffled scream.

"I'm going to kill you."

She didn't speak to Quinn for days. But what she did do was splurge on a good-sized chunk of steak the very next day.


	14. Viva Las Vegas

**A/N: I was halfway through this when I realised all of them would only be 20 years old! So let's have this fast-forwarded – Quinn and Santana have already been together for a year, which makes them 21. This means Quinn is now in her 2nd year in Yale. Is that right or does my math just suck? In any case, since these are all one shots, it doesn't really matter when this happens. **

**That being said, thanks for all the new follows, reviews and favourites! I always like hearing from readers so let me know what you think about this new chapter. **

**Viva Las Vegas. Go!**

* * *

It was about a week to the end of Quinn's summer vacation when a most interesting topic was initiated at the dinner table.

Coincidentally, they were having Chinese takeout that night and Santana was in the middle of cracking open her fortune cookie when Rachel let out a nasty cough. The type of cough that meant, "Listen up guys. I have something important to say."

Needless to say, she was ignored.

"Hurry up and open your fortune cookie, Quinn. We're supposed to read it together."

_Cough, cough. _

"Hang on, I'm not finished with my noodles yet."

_Cough, cough._

"You can finish that later," Santana huffed impatiently, " Our fortunes can't wait."

"If you can't wait, just open yours first!" Quinn complained with a mouth stuffed full of chow mien.

_Cough, cough. _

"But baby, we always do it together!"

_COUGH! COUGH!_

"Oh for fuck's sake Rachel, get it out already!" Santana finally snapped, spinning around to glare at her housemate with eyes of fury, "It's not as if we're of the same species. I don't speak Yentl. Ergo, I can't understand that awful hacking noise you make with your throat. Do you have like hair balls stuck in there or what?"

Affronted, Rachel puffed herself up to her full height (well as much as she could while sitting down), ready to put her newly-honed argumentative skills to use when Kurt cut in.

"Yeah and that thing you do with your throat doesn't exactly do wonders for your vocal cords darling. Would you like a glass of water?"

"No I do not but that's –"

Kurt looked relived, "I was hoping you would say no. I wasn't ready to get up and pour you one. I'm so full!" He groaned and patted his stomach to emphasize his point.

"Guys! I have something important to say!" Rachel said, getting annoyed at the indifference her housemates were showing her.

"What's new? You always have something important to say." Santana waved her off, then turned her attention back to Quinn, "How about I open your fortune cookie for you?"

"No!"

"Urgh!" She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and falling back to her seat in disappointment.

"I THINK WE SHOULD TAKE A ROAD TRIP TO VEGAS!" Rachel announced, clapping her hands loudly for attention.

Three pairs of wide eyes turned to face her.

"I know right?" She exclaimed happily, "Isn't it like the best idea ever?"

There was a beat of silence, then everyone suddenly started speaking at once.

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"Do you know how long it would take to drive there?"

"And look like a hobo by the time we reach Vegas?"

Rachel's face fell at the vehemence of the protests, "Okay, okay. Fine so a road trip isn't the most practical idea. But how about a trip to Vegas anyway?" she tried again with a hopeful smile.

"No."

And of course, Santana would be the first to say that.

"Quinn? What do you think? You're going back to Yale next week."

"I don't know. I've always wanted to go to Vegas," Quinn admitted, showing a little more interest now that the road trip had been vetoed. After her horrific freak accident, she wasn't particularly fond of spending too long a time in automobiles.

"No, baby no. It takes 6 hours to fly from New York to Vegas. That means 6 hours spent with Gimli and Pretty Pony here. I rather die. Well okay, fine," Santana conceded after a slight pause, "Hummel is actually tolerable but…"

"Why thank you Santana," Kurt interrupted with an eye roll, "I feel the love."

"But why not?" Rachel argued, "It's rare that we all have time off together."

"Thanks for taking into consideration that I actually have to fucking work," Santana griped.

"Oh you know what I mean Santana. It's just a week! You can work your ass off when Quinn heads back to Yale but don't you want to spend more time with her before she leaves? Besides, if you hit the jackpot in Vegas, you'll never have to work another day in your life. Imagine showing up at the Spotlight Diner and telling Gunther exactly what you think of him."

"Hmmmmmm." was all Santana said but everyone could see the wheels in her head spinning. Rachel had managed to get her intrigued.

Score!

"What kind of costs are we looking at?" Quinn leaned forward, her noodles all but forgotten.

Rachel squealed, glad that her idea was finally being considered seriously. "Give me a second!" She said, running to her room to grab her laptop.

"So flights are expensive but we can get a room for 15 dollars a night. If we're staying 5 nights, that's about a hundred. I don't believe we'll exceed a grand," she declared as she turned her laptop around so that everyone could see the spreadsheet she had drawn up.

Santana scrunched up her nose, "That's not cheap."

Rachel's face fell.

"But that's not too expensive either, especially if we do a little bit more budgeting."

Rachel's face lit up.

"So what do you guys think?"

"I think I can call up some people to pull some strings." Kurt smiled, "Isabelle once mentioned having some connections in Vegas."

"Then I guess we're going," Quinn beamed at Santana, who merely shrugged, and Rachel let out a deafening scream of joy.

"Oh for fuck's sake, shut the fuck up before we change our minds." But despite the fierce scowl on her face, everybody could tell that Santana herself was excited.

"And look what I have here," Santana let out a wicked cackle as she flattened out her piece of fortune paper on the table, "The star of riches will be shining on you. LUCKY Numbers: 2, 6, 8, 13, 17, 66, 74. Looks like Lady Luck is shining down on me. Las Vegas, you better watch out for what's coming!"

_Meow._

"Oh right! I'm sorry Skittles! We didn't mean to forget about you." Santana cooed at their protesting cat and looked around the table, "Who's going to take care of Skittles when we're gone?"

* * *

**Day of Departure**

"Santana! Are you done?" An exasperated Quinn called out from the doorway.

"Coming!"

Kurt let out a giggle, "That's what she said."

Quinn ignored his childish antics, choosing to tap her foot on the floorboard. After half a minute had passed and Santana was still a no show, she shouted again, "SANTANA!"

"WHAT?"

"The cab's here! Hurry up or we're going to be late!"

"Oh chill out! We're going on vacation," Santana finally emerged from her room, dragging out two large suitcases behind her.

When she saw all of them staring at her, she snapped out an irritated "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" Quinn chided, hands on her hips, "We're going for a week, not a year. Besides, the airlines will only accept one check-in bag."

"What's wrong with them?" Santana asked, her disgust sincere, "How can they expect anyone to bring less than two bags?"

Quinn, Rachel and Kurt all looked pointedly at their medium-sized suitcases.

Quinn was glad to see that Santana had the decency to look slightly abashed. "That's why _I'm _the hot one. Well, you can't expect me to repack now."

Deciding to take matters in her own hands, Quinn strode to her girlfriend, "Which one carries your toothbrush and cosmetics?"

Santana frowned, "This one I think." She pointed to the red bag on her left.

Quinn grabbed that with one hand and with the other, took Santana's hand and started dragging her out the door. "Kurt could you grab my bag please? I need to handle this bitch."

"No, no wait!" her girlfriend started panicking, "I can't be sure! It may be in the other bag! My toothbrush may be in the other bag! Quinn!"

When Quinn refused to budge and started dragging her down the stairs, Santana made a last ditch attempt, "But baby," she whined, "My sexy lingerie is in the other bag."

"You _only_ have sexy lingerie, Santana," Kurt heard Quinn say as he locked the door behind them.

He chuckled at that. _Nice try Satan but you should have tried harder._ Even_ he_ knew that one.

* * *

**JFK Airport**

"Oh for heaven's sake, are you still sulking?" Quinn poked her girlfriend in the arm when she saw the scowl on her face, "It's just a bag. You're not even going to be wearing half of what you have in that one suitcase you brought."

"Sure I will." Santana remained adamant.

"Er no you won't, you doofus. It's more than a 100 degrees out and I saw you pack a winter coat in. Don't even try to deny it," Quinn added when she saw her girlfriend start to protest.

When Santana snapped her mouth shut, Quinn nodded.

"Now give me a kiss and let's make up. If not, you're going to have to sit with either Rachel or Kurt and you know you don't want that."

"I don't mind sitting with Kurt," Santana grumbled, her arms still crossed stubbornly over her chest.

"Really? Quinn asked with an arched brow, "And hear him boast about how he managed to score us a free stay at Cosmopolitan?"

When Santana mumbled a curse under her breath, Quinn snorted, "Yeah that's what I thought."

Knowing her girlfriend and her stubborn pride, Quinn sighed and repeated her previous offer, "So do you want to kiss and make up or not?"

She saw Santana blow out a sheepish laugh before she launched forward to plant a deliberately big, sloppy kiss on her lips.

Quinn laughed, playfully shoving Santana away before she swiped at her lips, "Gross."

"I'm sorry," Santana apologized, leaning her head against Quinn's shoulder as she snuggled closer. "I don't like it when we argue over stupid things."

"Me neither," Quinn admitted, placing a light peck on the crown of her girlfriend's head, "How about I help pack your bag the next time."

"Okay."

* * *

**McCarran International Airport**

_"Good to know everything's fine. She can be a bit of a handful."_

"Who's she speaking to?" Rachel asked Quinn, curious as to why Santana had insisted on getting a calling card the moment they landed. She herself was anxious to go out and explore Las Vegas.

Quinn rolled her eyes fondly as she turned back to look at her girlfriend who was now hunched over her phone, cooing sweet nothings into the receiver.

Kurt looked appalled. The only time Santana behaved that way was when she was with Quinn but Quinn was right here, which meant….

"You two haven't adopted a sidepiece have you?"

Quinn's head snapped up in disgust, "You mean like a..No! Eew just no. We're exclusive!"

Both Rachel and Kurt breathed out in relief, "Oh for a moment, I thought Santana managed to convince you to like do a threesome or something."

"Well you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that of your friend." Quinn sniffed as she turned to look at Santana again, "Santana's always been loyal to her girls."

"Then who's she talking to?"

"Skittles of course," Quinn said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

**The Gambling Den**

Santana scowled down at the extra-large complimentary t-shirt that was handed to her after creating her rewards card.

_XL?_ She mouthed to Quinn in disbelief.

"Do I look like a whale?" She said sweetly to the genial old lady behind the counter before Quinn could stop her.

"What is it dear?"

"I said –"

"My friend here was just thanking you for your help," Quinn cut in before Santana could create any trouble.

"Friend?" Santana gritted out before turning back to the service staff with a fake smile, "Do you happen to have anything sexier?"

Quinn forced out a laugh, "She's just kidding! Thanks again!" She said to the befuddled woman before dragging her girlfriend away.

"What the hell Santana. It's a free t-shirt. Who complains about a free t-shirt?"

"Friend? Seriously, Quinn?"

"Santana. Focus."

"I am focusing! I'm your girlfriend, not your friend."

It's just a term! Do you want me to go back and tell Francine that?"

Santana frowned in confusion, "Who the hell is Francine?"

Quinn threw up her hands in frustration, "The nice old lady who just served you."

"Oh that bitch."

"Santana!"

"What! Do I look like an XL to you? She thinks I'm fat when she herself looks like she eats five burgers a day."

Quinn wanted to slap her, "It's not personal! I got an XL too. See." Quinn held out her own free t-shirt.

"Well, you _were_ complaining about being fat just a couple of days ago." Santana carried on, unrepentant, "Anyway, to answer your question, yes I do."

Now it was Quinn's turn to be confused, "You do what?"

"I do want you to tell Francine that we're girlfriends." Santana nodded seriously, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You can't be serious?"

"Of course I'm completely serious. What if _she_ wanted to hit on you?"

"Are you insane? She's like 60! I bet she already has grandchildren."

"I don't care," Santana shook her head resolutely, "You asked if I wanted you to tell her we're girlfriends and now I'm saying yes. I'm not leaving until you do so."

"But she's busy. She's serving another customer." Quinn protested, unwilling to do such a ridiculous thing just to appease her equally ridiculous girlfriend.

"Then you can tell them both."

"I refuse to.. I.. Urgh. Fine!" Quinn snapped when she saw the stubborn look on Santana's face. She knew that if she didn't comply, they were going to be standing on the same spot the entire day.

Comforting herself with the fact that she would never be seeing Francine again, she marched up to the counter with a flushed face, pointed to a smug Santana and told both a stunned Francine and the tourist she was serving that that idiot woman was her girlfriend.

After which, she marched back, hooked an arm through Santana's and dragged them away quickly, "Happy?" she demanded.

"Very." Santana crowed, looking absolutely too fucking pleased with herself.

* * *

**The Blackjack Table**

Their hot asses had not even touched the seat when the dealer politely asked for their IDs, to which a disgruntled Santana turned to Quinn and asked very loudly if her boobs were not large enough.

Not for the first time, Quinn wished she had gone with Kurt and Rachel to tour the strip instead.

"How do I not look 21? I got a boob job!" Santana demanded, waving her hand unabashedly at her rambunctious twins.

"Just give him your ID!" Quinn hissed back fiercely, "And keep your voice down!"

Santana did as she was told, but not before adding in an audible voice, "Maybe I should have gone a letter size larger."

Quinn blanched and despite her better judgment, opened her fat mouth to add some input, "Please don't babe. I like your boobs just the way they are."

The good thing was that her statement kept Santana happy and quiet for the next five minutes.

The bad thing was the blatant ogling they received from their fellow male players for the next half hour.

The worst thing was they lost their full hundred bucks at the table. Each.

* * *

**The Pussycat Dolls Lounge, Caesars Palace**

"I think we should play here," Santana grinned, hooking her arm over Quinn's shoulder in a distracted manner as she leered up at the sexy dancers on stage.

Not liking where Santana's eyes were directed at, Quinn smacked Santana's arm away and gave her a hard, punishing pinch.

"OW! What the fuck Q!"

"I should be the one saying that. We've just lost a hundred bucks!"

"Yeah so? Maybe our luck will change here," Santana said, rubbing at the sore spot, her eyes fixated on the skimpily dressed girls dancing on the tables.

"Do you want me to pinch you again?" Quinn growled and Santana took a step back.

"What?"

"You're leering at them!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"I'm just appreciating the dance! Just in case you've forgotten, I work at Coyote Ugly okay? I'm just picking up some tips. It's all professional."

"Fine. Then I'll leave you here to be professional all by yourself. You can sleep by yourself tonight. On the floor."

Now, that got Santana's attention.

"Oh come on babe. You can't mean that." Santana protested, following after Quinn quickly when the latter strode away.

"Sure I can."

"Oh don't be like that baby. You know you're my girl."

"Don't call me baby."

"But you _are _my baby." Santana whined, catching up to Quinn and grabbing her hand, pulling it to her heart, "See how my heart beats for you."

Quinn couldn't help but snort out a laugh, "You're fucking cheesy."

Santana frowned, "Don't curse, Q. It's unbecoming and my girlfriend isn't fond of cursing."

"As if that has stopped you from cursing."

"I'm different. You're the classy one," Santana smiled, glad to know that she had successfully averted a disaster, "You've always been the classy one. That's why we make a good pair and no naked, dancing girls will ever let me forget that."

"They had better not."

"Never." Santana promised before pressing a sweet kiss to Quinn's lips to seal the deal.

A wicked glint danced in her eyes when they parted, "Having said that, do you want to dance naked for me tonight?"

_Smack!_

"Ow! You could have just said no."

* * *

**En Route to Death Valley**

"Okay, whose idea was it to head out to Death Valley?" Santana complained from the driver's seat, adjusting the air-conditioner thermometer for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Kurt had managed to get them a convertible for a day and Santana had been completely hyped when she had heard about it.

"Actually, it was yours. Baby, could you please keep both hands on the wheel? You're making me nervous."

Understanding Quinn's fear, Santana gave her girlfriend's hand a quick, comforting squeeze before acceding to her request.

"If you would just put the top up like a normal person would, then we wouldn't all be sweating like pigs." Kurt complained, fanning at himself with his hand. He should have known that allowing Santana to drive would be a bad idea.

"Then that would defeat the purpose of driving a convertible."

"Actually, pigs don't sweat much," Rachel pointed out but was immediately shut down.

"Oh can it Berry. You're vegan."

"Rachel made a sound of disgruntlement, "Yes but that does not make me ignorant."

"Are we reaching soon?" Santana asked loudly, just wanting to drown out Rachel's voice before she could start ranting about what vegans really were. She wasn't stupid. Of course she knew what vegans were. She just liked getting a rise out of Berry.

"Santana," Kurt stated reasonably, "You're the one with the GPS right in front of you." He said at the same time Rachel asked for the radio to be turned on.

"And have your loud, obnoxious voice damaging our ear drums?" was the rude answer.

Rachel beamed happily, "Why thank you Santana for praising my astounding ability to project." After living with Santana for a year, she had since learned to sieve compliments from insults.

Quinn just shook her head in resignation. Sometimes, she wondered why she signed up for this madness.

* * *

**Death Valley**

"Oh. My. God. I'm dying." Santana proclaimed, lying on her back like a starfish.

She had whipped off her tank top about an hour on the road, much to her housemates' dismay.

"What? I have a hot bod and I'm not afraid to show it" was her proud reply to their complaints.

"Why are we here again? There's nothing to see." Santana moaned obscenely, ignoring the interested looks from a group of what looked like college boys.

"Babe, could you please put on your top?" Quinn asked, slightly disturbed by the unwanted attention her girlfriend was getting. She didn't think it would be constructive to remind her girlfriend that coming to Death Valley was her idea.

"But I'm so hot!" Santana flapped her arms and legs up and down, like one would do when making a snow angel.

"You're going to get a sunburn." Quinn said, rolling her eyes at her own reasoning. As if Santana's tank top was going to offer her much protection if she _did_ get sunburn. Over a decade of friendship and not once had Quinn known Santana to get sunburned, not even during cheer camp.

With some reluctance, Santana sat up and pulled the tank top Quinn had handed to her over her head.

What she really wanted to do was take off her shorts but if Quinn was uncomfortable with her nudity then who was she to do that? After all, her body _did _belong to one Quinn Fabray.

* * *

**En Route to Las Vegas**

Everybody was relieved when Santana finally pulled up the hood of the car and had the air con turned on at full blast. Finally, they could receive some much-needed cool relief. But their relief soon turned to horror when they approached the highway, only to find a long queue of vehicles parked before the entrance.

Left without a choice and an alternative route, Santana turned the car around to join the snaking queue, "What the fuck is this?"

"I think there was an accident," Quinn replied, eyeing the two police cars, fire engine and ambulance that were parked by the road.

"That doesn't mean they have to close the highway. This is outrageous," Santana said as she craned her neck, trying to see beyond the waiting cars.

"Not if they're cleaning someone's body off of the road."

Santana scoffed, "Like anyone would be walking on the highway."

"Might have been a really bad accident," Quinn pointed out.

"Then they should have crashed into each other by the side off the road or before they got on the highway. Some people are just so inconsiderate! Look at the queue!" She complained, jutting her chin out at the line before them.

"People don't plan accidents Santana."

"Well I don't care. They're being really inconsiderate. We're on holiday and this sucks." Santana insisted with a pout.

After a beat of deliberation, she leaned on her horn. Almost immediately, she was shoved off.

"Stop that!" Quinn hissed, looking around for someone to apologize to, "Horning isn't going to help."

"But I don't deserve this!" Santana whined.

"And the ones being cleaned off the road do?"

"That was an assumption. We don't know for sure that anyone is being cleaned off the road."

"But let's say that's what's going on, do they deserve it?" Quinn asked and watched with horror when her girlfriend shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Santana!"

"What? It's true! It depends, doesn't it? If a boulder fell down from the sky and crushed him, then nah, he doesn't deserve it. But if the idiot crashed because he was using his phone..." Here, Santana threw a meaningful look at Quinn, "Then yeah, maybe he deserves it."

"No one deserves to die."

"We're all dying from the moment we've been born."

"You know what I mean."

"Of course I do," Santana glanced cheerily at Quinn.

That earned her a hard and in Quinn's opinion, well-deserved swat to the arm. In fact, she thought Santana should have been grateful she hadn't aimed for the face.

"Ow! Bitch!"

"You're the bitch."

"Well, I'm your bitch and you're stuck with me whether you like it or not." Santana huffed as she rubbed at her arm.

"Why, is that so?" Quinn smirked, "Because that's where you're wrong."

"What do you mean I'm wrong. I'm Santana Lopez. I'm never wrong."

But Quinn couldn't help but notice the slightly panicked look that flashed on her girlfriend's face. So she did what any Fabray would so. She dug in.

"We're not married," Quinn shrugged, trying hard not to split her face with the smile she was trying to contain, "So I'm definitely not stuck with you," she managed to say huffily.

"Doesn't mean we won't be one day. Right?"

Quinn shrugged again, "I don't know. I haven't really thought of marriage."

At that, she received an incredulous look from Santana.

"Are you kidding me? You've been thinking of marriage since you could walk. In fact, I'm sure your first words were I do."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're the one being ridiculous." Santana turned in her seat to face Quinn full on, "Are you telling me that you've never thought of us being married?"

At the back seat, Kurt and Rachel watched their friends argue with some fascination. Both were wise enough not to interfere.

"Come on San. You can't possibly tell me you have," Quinn started to laugh but stopped when she saw the flicker of hurt pass her girlfriend's face.

"You have?" Quinn asked in shock, "But you're… you."

"What do you mean by that?" Santana shot back, very much offended. "I'm very much a romantic at heart."

Quinn's first response was to snort and rebut but when she thought about it, really thought about it, it was true. Santana could be rude, caustic and sarcastic but she could also be sweet, tender and gentle. And God knows how good she was with her tongue. Not in _that _way but she had a way with words. As easy as it was for Santana to come up with vicious words to cut down her opponent with, it was equally easy for her to come up with words to make Quinn feel safe, loved and beautiful. The best part was that Quinn knew how sincere Santana was with every word.

So, she softened. "Okay fine. You're right and maybe I have," she admitted coyly.

"Really?" Santana asked with some suspicion, still feeling some insecurity.

Quinn nodded.

"So you don't mind being my bitch then?"

And of course, Santana had to spoil the moment.

Two huge sighs sounded from the back and Quinn turned away from her girlfriend, upset all over again.

"What? What did I say wrong?"

* * *

**The Roulette's Table**

"This is it." Santana mumbled, watching the wheel spin.

They were down to their last fifty bucks and Santana had insisted they pool everything on the number 16.

"Are you sure about this?" Quinn hissed as she clutched Santana's hand tighltly in hers, "It's 50 bucks!"

"I'll pay you back if we lose everything!"

"There's still time to change the number!"

"No more bets," the dealer called out, sweeping his hand across the wheel and the number pad.

"I'm so nervous," Quinn confessed, chewing on her bottom lip, "I'm never gambling again."

"Me too," Santana agreed, eyes never leaving the tiny, white ball spinning around the wheel.

"How much have we lost in total?"

"Quinn!"

"What? I need to know. I'm so nervous!" She repeated.

"Well so am I and you're not helping! Oh..OH!" Quinn felt Santana's fingers clench over her and she closed her eyes, too worried to look at the result board.

"SIXTEEN! QUINN! SIXTEEN!" Santana cheered, eyes wild with happiness as she turned to envelope her girlfriend in a fierce hug, "Oh my gosh. We're such pansies. We're never gambling again." She said even as she continued jumping up and down in glee.

They watched happily, hand in hand as their dealer handed out their chips.

"So much have we won?"

"A thousand seven hundred and fifty." Santana answered proudly.

Quinn's smile split her face, "Really? Even after all that we've lost?"

"Oh. Right. Maybe about a grand?"

"That's still pretty awesome." Quinn squeezed Santana's hand as they asked to cash out.

"And you know what's the best part?" Santana asked, love shining in her eyes as she brushed her lips over Quinn's knuckles.

"What?"

"We both got lucky on the sixteenth too."

"Wha.. why?" Quinn asked and then she remembered.

16th April was the day they officially got together.

So today, Quinn was going to make it official. Sixteen was going to be her favourite number ever.

Until they got married that is.


End file.
